


A Mother In All But Blood

by DoodleDodie



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Alador owns museum, Alexander and Delavina Clawthorne belong to VanillaTea360, Amity wants a mom, BUMP AND LILITH ARE BEST FRIENDS, Blight kids single handedly bring the entire clawthorne family together, Clawthorne parents, F/M, Good Parent Alador Blight, Good Parent Lilith Clawthorne, HAMILTON JOKES, Humour, I DO NOT OWN THEM, Lilith Blight AU, Minor Lumity, Multi, Odalia is a nightmare person, Sword duels, and her name is Lilith clawthorne, author knows nothing about law and could probably ask bea but decides not to, bc I don't like her, bc yES, but only after luz comes in, everyone gets a redemption arc except odalia, lilith is a mom now ig, lilith owns library, minor jebric, minor vinira, no beta we die like men, pls go ask bea about them :D, ravenblight - Freeform, say thank u to the blight kids, she still has red hair and glasses, so she's getting a mom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoodleDodie/pseuds/DoodleDodie
Summary: A Stepmother is still a mother regardless of the lack of Blood.And Lilith Blight loves her children. Emira is her pride. Edric is her joy and Amity is her heart. And they are just as much as hers as they are Alador's. Who happens to be her husband now.But what everyone really wants to know is how she's got there. Standing in the top right corner of the Blight family portrait dressed in hues of purple and blue that were once reserved for Odalia Farechild.Well... this is that story.
Relationships: Alador Blight & Edric Blight & Emira Blight, Alador Blight/Lilith Clawthorne, Amity Blight & Edric Blight & Emira Blight, Amity Blight & Lilith Clawthorne, Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Eda Clawthorne & Lilith Clawthorne, Edric Blight/Jerbo, Emira Blight/Viney
Comments: 100
Kudos: 327





	1. My Life In Your Absence

**Author's Note:**

> Look it was three am and Pam wasn't helping. 
> 
> CLAWTHORNE PARENTS BELONG TO VANILLATEA360 I DO NOT OWN THEM. THEY ARE HER OC'S

Lilith is a horrible person. 

Or that’s what she tells herself anyway. 

Lilith Clawthorne is a horrible person. 

It’s become a mantra at this point. She repeats it when she wakes up, or when she makes mistakes. She says it to herself to force herself to sleep. She says it because she thinks it will keep away the nightmares. 

And it never works. 

_“Edalyn!” she cries as her sister runs towards the forest._

_It was her fault. Her sister was a beast because of her._

_She’s a horrible person._

_She feels a light grasp on her wrist. “Announcing the newest addition to the emperor’s coven!” the guard announced. Raising her hand to the air._

_“Let me go!” she yells, struggling to break free. The guard doesn’t let go, so she draws a circle and casts a fire at him._

_He flinches and releases her, and she makes a run for it. She tries her best to ignore the cries or gasps that filled the stadium. Running was the only thing on her mind._

_She’s a horrible person._

_Lilith finds her sister deep in the woods. A little too deep. So deep that you could no longer see the sun glaring through the leaves._

_“Edalyn!” she calls out, but does not get an answer._

_Instead she hears whimpers and the scratching of wood. Turning to see the orange mess of an owl beast trying to climb a tree. A snarling sound came out of her mouth, and Lilith tensed a bit._

_“Eda… It’s me. Do you recognize me?” she asked, shaking just the slightest._

_The owl beast charged towards her and Lilith lets out a scream,_

_Only to be sat on of all things._

_“Edalyn!” she grumbled from beneath her now fluffy sibling. That was most definitely her sister. Only she would sit on her all things considered, even in a state of unconsciousness._

_She struggled against the soft fur, “Get off Edalyn!”_

_Her sister just purred happily._

_Did she really have to be cute? It would have been so much easier if she wasn’t cute._

_Finally managing to crawl out from under her, she huffed as she hit the ground. Eda tilted her head slightly to the side as Lilith paced back and forth._

“S-stop.” she whimpers as she struggles against her bed. She hates the memory. She hates what happened. She hates herself. 

But every night, she is forced to watch. 

“Please… stop.” 

The nightmares never stop. They never listen to her pleas. 

It’s okay… she deserved this. 

_Curse… curse… pain! She was feeling pain!_

_And pain could be shared._

_“With this spell declared,” she said softly, cupping her cheeks. “Let the pain be shared.”_

_A great glow erupted from within Eda’s chest and spread towards her. The owl beast shrank away and instead was replaced with a little girl with orange hair and yellow eyes._

_Or… eye to be precise._

_The other one was grey now._

_“What… happened to your eye?” Eda squeaked out after a bit._

_Her eye?_

_“What do you mean my eye? Look at yours!”_

_She wishes she hadn’t said that, because Edalyn starts crying._

_“What… what happened to me, Lily?” she sobbed._

“I-I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Lilith begs. 

They can’t hear her. She’s forced to watch her younger self hugging her sister. Who’s broken. She had broken her. 

_“Why am I a monster?”_

_“You are_ **_not_ ** _a monster. You are my sister.”_

Edalyn was not a monster. But she was. 

_“You will never be a monster.” she promised._

The memory begins to shift around her. Her surroundings turned into a poisonous blank ink. All except Edalyn, which glowed a pure gold. The next thing she knows, she’s drowning. 

The waves get stronger and Lilith can’t breathe. She can’t see anything but black. A black that blinded her. A black that filled her lungs and burned her skin. 

She can hear faint voices. One of her own and the other of her sister. 

_“I HATE YOU. YOU RUINED ME. YOU CURSED ME. YOU ACTUALLY CURSED ME.”_

“Please stop,” she begs uselessly. 

_“IT’S YOUR FAULT I’M A MONSTER!”_

Lilith is sorry. She’s so very sorry. 

_“Edalyn please come out!” she hears her own voice call out from behind the wooden door._

_“No!” Eda cries, her voice cracking._

_She’s hurting… and I can’t take it away from her this time._

_Lilith holds back tears of her own, “I’m so so sorry Edalyn. Please open the door!”_

_“No! I… I… I never want to see you again!”_

_The words sting and cut into her like a sun forged blade. The tears finally fall from her eyes, but she doesn’t try to hide. Because Eda was right. She is a monster. And monsters didn’t hide in the dark. They roamed the light, spoiling everything it touched._

Lilith had finally understood the meaning of her name that night. Lilith roughly translated to ‘Night Monster’ in demon tongue. And though her mother named her after the first witch, Lilith thinks the first option is much more fitting. 

She was a night monster. And a horrible sister. 

_“Okay.” she chokes out, and steps away from the door._

_If Edalyn never wanted to see her again, then she’d make sure of it._

She screams awake, covered in sweat and tears. The sweat did not go well with her hair. It clung uncomfortably against her skin. 

Lilith finds herself back in the present time. She’s 34. She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s the Potion’s teacher at Hexside and their grugby coach. She owns the only library in Bonesboroug that has an indoor bakery. She’s the Potion’s Coven’s most esteemed potioneer. She lives alone in a small house in the woods.

She is, however, still a horrible person. 

Feet falling onto the wooden floor, she drags herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She draws herself a bath because she can’t go to work all sweaty and tired. 

Perhaps she should make herself another Dreamless Sleep Draught.

Many things have happened since Eda had stopped talking to her. 

For one, Lilith graduated the following year, and immediately moved out. There was no send off for father had not come home on time and mother was busy crying in the pantry. 

Lilith had simply packed her bags and made her way to Hexside, where she talked to Bump regarding her place in the system. 

_“So Level 5 Degree curse?” he asks, and she nods her head._

_“Forbidden entrance for the Emperor’s Coven due to the incident?”_

_She nods her head shyly again, reminiscing the bitter memory. Bump only hums in understanding._

_“And any form of magical binding could kill, or worse, trap you in your beast form?”_

_She nods yet again, practically sinking into the curly mess she called her hair._

_Bump shook his head, “Luckily for you, there is an option.”_

_Lilith perked up her head in anticipation at his words._

_“There is a special needs program for the disabled.” he said, handing her a pamphlet. “You may choose any other coven aside the Emperor’s and will be tattooed instead of bound to it. So you will not lose any of your magic.”_

_“Can’t I just make an Eternal Oath?” she asked as she took the neatly folded paper._

_“Unfortunately the Eternal Oath is under the category of magical binding, therefore it would kill you in the process.”_

_Her lips thinned into a line, but she no longer asked questions. Bump began to continue._

_“However, you will be checked annually to make sure you aren’t doing any other magic aside from your chosen coven.” he explained._

_Lilith thought of her options, only to come to the conclusion that this was the best route. This way, Edalyn wouldn’t have to see her anymore, and she could no longer be of harm to anyone else._

_It’s all she ever did anyway._

_“Okay. I’ll take it.”_

_“Alright then. Choose your coven.”_

_Potions, she decides. Potions is her track anyway. She would be best suited there. Besides, that way she would not need to use up much magic. It was both safe and practical._

_“I think I’ll apply for the Potion’s Coven.” she told him after a while._

_Bump nodded and handed her the forms, “You know, we have a teacher opening for the Potion’s track. Mrs. Jenkins is taking retirement as we speak.”_

_A teacher didn’t sound so bad._

_“Not… yet. Perhaps after a couple years. Exactly 2 years to be exact.”_

_“Mm. And does this have anything to do with Edalyn’s graduation?”_

_Her head snaps forward and to the side. Shying her eyes away from him. He didn’t know. He didn’t know what an awful person she was. He didn’t know the awful things she’s done._

_Bump sighed and looked at the young girl. She was young, naive and misguided. He knows Alexander and Delavina were in a rough patch, he just wished it wouldn’t take such a toll on such great girls like Lilith and Edalyn._

_“Look, it’s none of my business to be meddling with your family. But if you need anything, I’m always open. Okay?”_

_Lilith looks up from the tightly clutched papers and offers him a smile. He doesn’t know, she realizes. But that’s okay. She would make sure to make up for the horrible things she’s done._

_“Thank you, Principle Bump.”_

_He nods yet again (Lilith now thinks that it’s a teacher thing). “Very well. I’ll be seeing you here in 2 years time I hope?”_

_“Yes you will.” she confirmed, shaking the old man’s hand. Feet walking out of the door of his office._

She had also inherited a library from her late boss. Who was also her mentor in the art of the blade.

Though she didn’t like talking about that part. 

_“You called for me Ma’am?”_

_“Yes Lily dear. Please. Take a seat.”_

_She does as she is told in front of the old woman, choosing one with a pink cushioned surface. Her mentor hands her a neatly folded envelope. Lilith takes it gracefully and opens it. Surprised to see a check and several documents._

_“What-”_

_“I’m dying Lily dear.”_

_Lilith stared at her stunned and her mentor laughed hysterically. She could not understand what had been so funny about the moment._

_“Didn’t think I’d live forever now did you Lily?” she teased, hitting her knee in response._

_Lilith shook her head and stared at the papers clutched between her hands. They were real estate papers for the library. And they were in_ **_her_ ** _name._

_“I do not have children of my own Lily. So I’m giving you everything I have.”_

_“Bu-but… surely you have family of your own!”_

_“And give my hard earned fortune to those chumps? I’d rather die twice!” she bellowed._

Lily missed her mentor dearly. She had been all she had in the first few years she had left the nest. Though they had their moments, she had ultimately been the one to take in a 16 year old with no questions asked. 

_“You… you can find someone who is more deserving of your fortune, Master.”_

There had been very few times her mentor had been serious. And that had been the last time she ever was. 

_“Now listen to me Lily dearie,”_

_Staring into her golden eyes, she could see the sincerity practically leaking out of them._

_“You may have made horrible, horrible mistakes. But you need to remember that you aren’t a bad person. I would not teach you the values of a swordswoman if I thought otherwise.”_

Lilith remembers these words. And though she trusts her mentor was wise, she was wrong about her. 

Lilith was an excellent swordswoman, teacher and potioneer. She is an orderly librarian and an even better sports coach. But none of this changed the fact that she was a horrible person. 

This was her mantra. These were her life’s teachings. 

This was fact. 

Lilith Meadowyn Clawthorne was a horrible person. 

\--x--

Alador Blight is 35 and miserable. 

He is unhappily married to a cruel woman, and he is unhappy with his job. He is unhappy in a house that he’s grown up in. It has become his prison. A very comfortable, beautiful prison.

A prison that is too wide to be suspected of one. His children would soon learn that. 

He’s utterly miserable. He struggles with finding joy in anything. 

Though he does enjoy his time painting. He enjoys using the familiar hues of blues and oranges, though he’ll never tell you why. Alador enjoys painting the autumn leaves that adorned a strange woman with fluffy red hair.

He also finds joy in his children. 

Emira is headstrong and sharp. She is his eldest and she fulfills her job well. He has no doubt that she’ll make a good leader and an even better coven leader one day. And he is not one to give compliments all willy nilly. 

Edric is kind and energetic. He is curious about everything and always had a knack for pointing out small hidden details he found obvious. He is his only son and Alador couldn’t be more proud. 

Amity is much like him. Soft spoken and distant, but had a heart of gold beneath her seamingly cold eyes. She was clever and quick on her feet. Having a knack for the arts much like him. He loves his youngest very much.

It’s a shame his time with them is short. He’s a busy man with much work to do, so he cherishes the little time he has with them. 

“Papa?” 

He looks down to see Amity standing there, peering at him with big eyes. It feels like he’s looking into his own. 

He also notices that she’s wearing a hood. 

“Yes dear?” he says as he sets down his paperwork. 

Amity clutches onto her Otabin plush she bought the other day and points at her hood. He reaches out to take it from her head and is shocked to see the sea of green instead of it’s usual brown colour. 

His daughter looks like she’s about to cry. 

“I… I don’t like it.” she said, small and squeaky. Alador thinks his heart is going to break. 

“Did your mother do this?” he asked softly, though his throat sours. 

His daughter nods her head and forces her tears back. They form at the edge of her eyes, but do not fall. Because they both know what would happen if they did. 

His heart breaks for her, but there is not much he can do. 

“Now now, let’s not cry. Your mother doesn’t like it when you cry.” he said as he wiped her cheeks. 

She sniffles as he does and Alador thinks of a way he might be able to cheer her up. 

“How about I read to you today?” he suggests. 

His 6 year old looks stunned at him. He rarely ever read to his children. He hardly spent any time with them ever really. But his little girl was sad, and he wasn’t going to let that stand. 

“Can you read Otabin?” she asked quietly. 

He chuckled as he ruffled her (now) green hair, “Of course.” 

She beamed and nodded. Her smile was enough for him to want to paint her again. He laughed at her chubby smile and dismissed her. He would see her soon anyway. Amity happily hopped out of his office. Almost forgetting about the colour of her hair. 

Speaking of which, he had to discuss that with Odalia. 

He stared back at the papers laid out before him and sighed. These papers could wait. Perhaps he could do with a drawing break. 

Pushing the papers aside, he took out a piece of rigged paper and his water colours. Setting aside a cup of water (that he labelled paint so he didn’t accidentally drink it… again), he dipped his brushes in. 

He finds himself dipping it in red. His favourite colour. 

He paints the autumn leaves. He paints red curly hair and teal eyes. He paints round glasses and pale white skin. He dressed her in white dress shirts and black vests and he paints her smile just as he remembers it. 

He misses her. He misses her smile, her laughs and her hugs. He misses every bit of her and he can’t do anything but yearn for what never was. 

Sighing in defeat, he sets the drawing aside and hangs it to dry. His own painting is mocking him. How quaint was that? 

A knock on his door is what snaps him out of his thoughts, ordering whoever is there to enter. 

It is his son this time, he looks worried. 

“Mittens hair is green now. Why papa?” he asked immediately. Wasting no time in formalities. 

Alador knew how much Edric adored his and Amity’s chestnut hair colours. He had begged his mother to dye his own not too long ago. He remembers him being scolded and put in time out. He remembers the boy crying. 

He also remembers doing nothing about it.

“Do you not like it?” he dodged. 

His son shook his head furiously. Going as far as puffing his cheeks. Alador could not contain his laughter and burst at his son’s antics. 

“Why don’t you go play with your sister?” 

“Em is with Mama. Mittens is in her room. I have no one to play with.” 

Alador thinks of how he may entertain his son. He wasn’t opposed to spending time with him. Even with the stacks of paper waiting to be filled on his desk, he wants to be in the presence of his boy. 

But he bites back his urges, just as he’s always done. 

“How about you go and ask Mortain to play with you. I’ll see you tonight, okay?” 

Edric’s ears droop, but he masks his disappointment quickly. It nearly scares Alador just how quickly his children have become actors. Being able to weave words that held empty promises and looks that held no compassion at such a young age. 

He is reminded that he was once like this too. 

He did not find joy in this. 

“Okay Papa,” he says, making his way to the door. 

Edric is graceful. Unlike his daughters, he did not need to be taught grace. He naturally flowed with the air around him. Never did he struggle to move a certain way.

But he was also curious. And it got the better of him often. 

His mouth did not possess the grace his body did. And he often found himself saying things that Odalia did not approve of. 

So upon spotting a redness in his shoulder he can only assume she was the one to put it there. 

Alador needed to talk to Odalia. 

Abruptly getting up from his seat, he made his way to their bedroom in a messy fashion. It was unbefitting of a Blight to do so, but he is foremost a father. 

He just hoped he would remember that. 

“Odalia, we need to talk.” 

Odalia Blight, formerly a Farechild, liked order. So it was no surprise to see her hair in a perfect bun without a single hair out of place. She was not startled in the slightest when Alador had come in. Looking him up and down, she only noted that he did not look presentable. 

“Yes dear?” 

“What happened to Edric’s shoulder?” 

Odalia’s lips thinned. She knew of Alador’s hesitation when discipline became… _physical_. 

“They boy stepped out of line. I was simply putting him back in.”

“So you hit him?” he asked in disbelief. 

“The boy had to be disciplined, Alador. You must understand this.” she said calmly. 

Alador’s blood boiled but he masked it well. For like his son, he was better than any actor that lived. For he was a liar. And a remarkable one at that. 

“What did he do this time? Ask to dye his hair? Or maybe tell you he wasn’t hungry? Or by god play with some other child you didn’t approve of?” he asked angrily. 

He was treading a very thin line, but Alador did not like the thought of inflicting harm on his- _their_ children. 

The realization just made the entire ordeal a whole lot worse for him. 

“No need to be so emotional, Alador.” 

“Then what could he have possibly done to deserve it?”

“The boy asked for a dress, Alador! No son of mine will be so… weak!” she finally snapped. 

His blood ran cold at her words. How could she? Hitting her own child for something as simple as a clothing garment. The last thing he remembers is that clothes didn’t have gender. That morality was incredibly 16th century. They were witches for crying out loud. 

But then again, the Farechilds were always incredibly old fashioned. 

“So let me get this straight. My- our son. Has a bruised shoulder because he asked for a piece of fabric that affects nothing but his happiness. And you think that’s a justified reason?” 

“It is not befitting of a boy-”

“HE IS A CHILD ODALIA!” He bellowed, hitting the wall next to him. 

Odalia looked her husband up and down. Analyzing every weakness and threat. He feels incredibly exposed under her cunning gaze. Alador cared. That was his weakness. And he knew just as well as her that he could not fight her. For they stood on the same ground. He was no above her than she was to him. 

They stood on a balance beam and shared the same name. If one was knocked off, the other would too. They had to find common ground if they both wanted to stay on. 

“Are you done with your temper tantrum?” she says, like he was wasting her time.

Alador wanted to say something. He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to do something to make sure his children would not bear the scars of another’s hand. 

But he grits his teeth and glares at her. He could not knock her off her throne if he wished to stay on his own. 

‘I’m sorry Edric…’ he tells himself.

He walks out the door without another word. He can’t win. And one shouldn’t fight battles they cannot win. 

Instead he makes his way towards the many bookshelves and picks out ‘Otabin: The Book Maker” from its place and heads towards the children’s nursery. 

He would grit his teeth and bare his soul if it meant the safety of his children. 

They would understand this soon.

\--x--

Work keeps the mind busy. So it’s no wonder Lilith and Alador do so much of it. 

Both worked to the dead of night perfecting their craft. Lilith made sure every one of her potions were perfect. This made her quite popular around the town of Bonesboroug. Even getting a commission or seven from the Emperor himself. 

Alador’s abominations were impressive at an immense level. Never did any of them hold a single flaw. They all performed optimum tasks with great efficiency. Never failing to impress the public or the secrecy of the powerful. 

Work also distracted the guilt from killing them alive. 

So it’s a wonder why they’re out here at a festival.

In all honesty Lilith did not plan on staying there. She had been merely stuck on her way home from closing her library. 

The lights and decorations are beautiful, she admits. They look like stars in the night sky. And the laughter of children and their families never fail to make her smile. 

The wind blew on her red hair and she sighs. Chills running down her spine. Making her way towards the forest, she’s stopped by a woman who held great resemblance to her mentor. 

“Do you happen to be Lilith Clawthorne by any chance?”

The woman was dressed in the most vibrant blue she had ever seen. Her gray hair faded into a light red at the end. She had a bent spine, but if her mentor had taught her anything, it was that looks were often deceiving. She had no doubt that the woman could fight her if she desired to do so. 

She hesitated, before answering eventually, “Yes? Do I... know you?”

The old woman chuckled and held out her hand, “I am a distant cousin. You are exactly how old Robby described you in your letters.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

Clearing her throat, “Round glasses, red curly hair like the fires of Gran’s furnace. Holds the colour of oceans in both eyes and is useless to no end.” she mocked in Old Robyn’s voice.

Oh that was most definitely her mentor’s words. She would have groaned if not for her great respect for the dead. 

“I was sort of offended that she gave everything to you. But now I can see why she did.”

“You… can?” 

“Yes. Your eyes hold oceans my darling. Old Robyn always wanted a daughter. She saw you as such I’m sure.” 

Lilith blushed, before shaking her head. 

“Thank you I guess. Did… did you need something?” 

The old woman chuckled before digging through her bag and pulling a deck of cards. 

“I want to give you a reading,” she said simply. Showing off her deck of tarots. “Free of charge,” she added before Lilith asked. 

Well, she had nothing to lose did she?

“I don’t see why not,” she replied, sitting down in front of her. 

The woman shuffled with a great grace her master had presented in her sword technique. They were no doubt related. She could see it in the way they moved with their body parts despite their age. Performing a secret dance in the simplest of movement. 

Coming to a stop, she drew out a single tarot and a handful of dice from her pocket. Throwing them messily on the ground. Lilith flinched at the woman’s sudden violent gesture. 

“Oh how lucky. You got the first half of the Lover’s Tarot.” she said sweetly, making Lilith slightly uncomfortable. 

“Ah. Nice set of numbers too,” she said as she pointed at the glittery dice. “3 kids. Now that’s a handful eh? Oh but you will be so very loved.” she added. 

Lilith now believes that the woman before her is crazy. She did not have time to romanticize a life of family and marriage when she had bigger things to deal with. And especially from an outdated magic ritual. 

“You have such a funny destiny girl,” she says, interrupting her train of thought. 

She chuckled, “It seems that everyone you love is destined to have gold eyes. Beautiful isn’t it?” 

And immediately she thinks of her sister and a man she had once been in love with. 

‘Stupid Lilith. Quit thinking of them.’ she scolds herself silently.

No matter. He was no longer in her life. And it was for the better anyway. 

She’d probably ruin his life too. Because that’s all she ever does. 

“Here you go dearie. Take these with you. I promise they will be of great value.” 

Lilith takes the items and gives her an awkward smile. They are nice trinkets, she admits. And Lilith is not one to throw away things that she deemed were invaluable. She saw the joy in simple craft. And if she really was Old Robyn’s relative, then she would give them the greatest respects. 

“Thank you. But I must be on my way now. I’m quite a busy woman.” 

“Very well. And hey, thank you for taking care of our Robby.”

“It was my greatest honour.” she says, before heading towards the woods again. 

It’s when a familiar face catches the corner of her eye. 

Alador?

She swiftly turns to see that he is no longer there. Perhaps it was her mind playing tricks again. The dumb ritual was probably getting into her head. 

The Lover’s Tarot? Such a stupid thing to pull out to her of all people. Lilith had been in love only once before. She’d rate the experience a 3/10 and leave it at that.

But then again, most people did not fall in love with their best friends who would later be arranged to marry her worst enemy. So really she guesses that part was a bit her fault. 

No matter she tells herself as she shoves the dice into the pockets of her skirt. Taking the card in her hands, she caresses the artistry on them. It’s a nice mural all things considered. So it wasn’t a complete loss of time. 

Where was she again? Oh right. Home. 

She heads towards her cottage again. And this time, there are no distractions. 

\--x--

Alador stops in his tracks when he thinks he sees a patch of red hair. 

Snapping his head back, he sees that he is right. 

Lilith. 

Pushing himself through the crowd, he scolds himself for going after her. He’s married for Titan’s sake. And she probably was too. 

He curses himself when he loses her in the sea of people. 

“Excuse me sir?” 

He turns to see an old woman dressed head to foot in the deepest blue silk. Head gray but he thinks the ends are a bit of orange. Her spine curls but looks as though to have a strong build. 

“Yes?”

“Could I perhaps give you a reading? Free of charge if you will.” 

“I have an Oracle for a wife ma’am. I do not believe I will be needing one.” he says simply. Preparing to make his way back to the festival. 

“Does your wife know 13th century Oracle Training?” she asked smuggly. 

Fascinating. 

As useless as it appeared, Alador knew better than to judge Savage Age magic. It was incredibly advanced and even dangerous to perform. Not to mention incredibly accurate. 

He doesn’t know if the woman is crazy or not. 

“Alright. I have nothing to lose.” he muttered, sitting in front of the old woman. 

He saw as the woman moved in fluid motion, as if she was animating in one swift motion. He is impressed with the mere shuffling of cards. It baffles him that she was able to capture his attention with an action as simple as that. 

The woman sure was something. 

Gently letting go of the dice in her hand, the numbers 6, 17 and 3 presented themselves. And she handed him a single ornate tarot card. 

“The second half of the Lover’s tarot. How lucky.” she says sweetly. 

She would not be saying that if she knew what his wife was really like. 

“And would you look at that. You got a nice set of numbers too. I see great happiness in your future.” she told him, feeding his hungry eyes. 

He doesn’t want to give himself false hope. It was incredibly foolish to believe every good thing he heard. It was not befitting for a Blight. 

“But let me tell you something important, young man. When you see a woman with eyes that bear the ocean, I want you to hold onto her. Do you understand?” 

Alador stares at the woman as she holds out the tarot card for him to take. He takes it with hesitation. Wondering what value a silly card could have when he had literally the world at his feet. 

He also ignores the words ‘woman with eyes that bear the ocean’ and the woman that came into mind at that. 

“All… Alright.” he mutters as he laced his fingers through the cardboard. 

“Good child. Now go to your children. They are waiting for you.” 

He gaps like a fish and the woman simply said “All Seeing Eye child. Don’t ask questions.”

Eyeing the dice in his hands, he shakes his head and makes way to his kids. Amity laughed on the ferris wheel holding the hand of a girl her age. A single most fragile smile tugged on his lips. His daughter was happy. Maybe the festival wasn’t as useless as he thought. 

“Oh Robyn. The things I do for your kids.” the old woman said as she made her way out of Bonesborough. 

“Not to worry dear cousin. That Lily girl of yours will be just fine.”

  
  



	2. Entitlement vs Enlightenment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is his daughter's birthday and she is crying. 
> 
> It is his daughter's birthday and he is spending it crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically Alador gets some sense knocked into him (both figuratively and literally) 
> 
> Lilith continues to suffer.

It is his daughter’s birthday and she is crying. 

The girl she had been on the ferris wheel with had been named Willow Park. She was the daughter of their former classmates Samuel and Caleb Park. Caleb was now the castle gardener and Samuel had become a decent potioneer in the Potions Coven. 

They had raised a little girl, and though she was a late bloomer, she seemed to be highly connected with nature. She had taught Edric of the many types of mushrooms and had been overall sweet when he met her. Amity was so fond of her in fact that she invited her to her birthday party despite not being on the guest list.

But this did not change the fact that Odalia did not approve of her. 

Amity was forced to send Willow home. 

He did nothing about it. 

Actually, he had done worse. Much worse. Alador had done the worst thing he could have possibly done in that situation.

He had encouraged his wife’s behavior. 

Never had he felt so disgusted with himself. 

It was her birthday for Titan’s sake and here she was, bawling her eyes out because he had enabled the behaviour of a blind woman. He was disappointed in himself. 

The familiar tugging of guilt fills his heart when he hears Amity screaming in anger. Throwing various things in her room to drown out the anguish rising in her chest. Pained war cries echoed the manor’s walls and they eventually drowned out into sobs. 

Alador knows how it feels. He had been in her shoes once. 

“Was that necessary?” he asks as Odalia sits in her vanity.

She scrawls, “Didn’t you agree with me just a moment ago?”

“That was after you threatened the girl’s education, Odalia. Are you seriously still upset with Caleb?” 

“Most of you friends used to upset me Alador. Those Clawthornes were a prime example.” she spat out in disgust. 

He bites his tongue at the insult directed at his former friends. 

“It is her _birthday_ Odalia. Couldn’t it have waited another day?” 

“Birthday or not, our family will not be seen meddling with commoners.” she snaps, applying her red lipstick.

Berry Linen. An extremely toxic fruit that caused hallucinations to those who touched or ate it. Usually leaving the victims permanently damaged. 

They were often mistaken for Roseburrow, a sweet fruit that was highly medicinal. Though if one could detach and mix the two, it created a neutralized substance that went into lipsticks and tints. But the process was so dangerous acquiring one was awfully expensive. 

And Odalia refused to use anything other than those. 

Alador thinks it's fitting that they go on her lips. For her words were just as poisonous as the fruit that were applied on them. 

“She’s 7, Odalia.”

“And for that she should know better. Alador, I promised my family that our bloodline would not go to a waste and I promised yours that I would not fail them. So if you could stop getting in my way that would be most lovely.” 

Her words are like daggers, sinking into him like boiling rain and hot fire. He knows he cannot fight her. He cannot fall when he has 3 kids to take care of. 

He must hurt them to protect them. They would understand that soon. 

“I’m only doing what your family asked me to do. Now do your part and let me do mine.” she ordered, before turning the other way.

‘I’m sorry Amity’ is all he can think when his wife walks out of their bedroom. Leaving him alone to ponder the guilt in his heart. 

His father would have wanted this, he thinks. His father would have approved of her methods. Though he disapproves, his father is his lord. Just as he is the lord of his children. He would understand this soon. 

Another pained scream comes from Amity’s room. Echoing into his ears and stabbing his heart. 

He needs to get out a bit. 

Heels turning he heads out the same threshold his wife had gone out moments before. His shoes tapped lightly on the wooden floorboards as they passed. Edric shot a worried glance at his father but he did not pay much mind. Alador just kept walking.

His children had begun calling him ‘Father’, and though that’s what he was, it didn’t feel right. Father was polite. Father was respectful and formal. But it was not something children called their parents. It didn’t feel nice. It didn’t provide the warmth ‘papa’ had once given. But father was appropriate. 

It’s best not to dwell on these things. It was not befitting of a Blight. 

“Titan couldn’t you have given these children a better life.” he muttered as he grabbed his coat and walked out the door. 

His feet go on with no sense of direction. He walked aimlessly with no intention of going anywhere. But the funny thing is that even with the intention of nothing there is always something. For the definition of nothing is complex. 

No matter, he ends up somewhere despite heading nowhere. 

Alador makes a stop when he feels the sand at his feet. Only to realise he’s made it to the beach at the far end of the town of Bonesborough. A large cave made of jagged rocks sat tall in front of him and he suddenly immediately knew where he'd ended up. 

He doesn’t know why he’s moving towards the inside of it. 

He knows what this is. He knows what lies beyond the cave that looked seemingly dangerous. Though it looked cold, dreary and unstable, what lay beyond it was the most magnificent sight he had ever seen. 

Making his way towards the light at the end, he dodges the stones and the sharp rocks that lay in its interior. Though he had not come here in the last 20 years, he knows every direction and space by memory. 

It was still there. 

Before him on the shoreline, lay a great pirate ship. Sunken for who knows how long. It was like no time had passed at all. Despite it being more than 2 decades old (and perhaps even longer) it still stood tall and proud. 

He wished he had half the will power the ship did. 

He made his way into the wrecked boat and went up the wooden stairs. He skips the loose one, remembering to go over it this time. 

The floorboards creak under his oxford shoes (which were now covered in sand) and he takes in a deep breath. He could taste the salt water in the humid air and hear the gentle singing of birds in the sky. 

Grabbing hold of the riggings, he began to climb onto the crow’s nest. From the corner of his eye, he could see their hammock still hanging from inside of the captain’s cabin. Up on top, he could see all of the ocean before him. They took the colour of _her_ eyes.

The violent flapping of the sails caught his attention. Turning to face it, he sees the main sail and inner jib to have little rips in them. The main sail had always had a great tear in it, and though Lilith had stitched it a couple years back, her handiwork had seemed to come undone over the years. 

He remembers her singing sea shanties in their youth. And how they would climb the deck and dance on the crow’s nest. Pretending to play pirates when the stresses of home got too great for them to stay there. How they would escape in the night to sleep in the hammock they had built for those nights. 

He remembers the quiet nights full of stargazing and the days filled with swimming and dancing. 

Alador also remembers how they found it. 

_“Lily!” he cried out as the little girl ran into the cave. “Slow down!”_

_“Come on!” she giggled, grasping onto his hand._

_She tugged him into the cave and though he felt fear panging in his chest, his friend did not stop. She simply tugged on his sleeve and led the way. Not once did she let go of his hand._

_“Only a little further I promise.” she declared as they got closer to the end._

Alador’s heart aches at the memory. He was 10 at the time. Just a few months older than his twins now. Back when he was foolish and young. 

And happy too. He was so very happy. 

_“See! I told you it was real!” the girl said smugly and all Alador could do was gap at the sight before him._

She was, of course, right. 

_There lay a great ship, wrecked and broken but still mostly intact. At the base of the ship was a giant crack, treasures and trinkets glowing in the sunlight. The sails contained massive rips and the wood reeked of saltwater and seaweed._

_“Woah…”_

_“What do you think is in it?”_

_“Dunno.”_

_“Let’s go see!”_

_“Wha-”_

_He doesn’t get to finish his sentence and is dragged yet again by the young girl to the inside of the massive ship. Inside they find empty barrels, crisp maps and jars of herbs. They find a chest full of gold and trinkets. Old photographs in broken frames scattered around the floor and Lilith picked each of them out and lay them onto the knocked over table._

_“These are so cool!”_

_“I know right!”_

_“Should we show Edalyn?” he asked, picking up a sword from the wall._

_Lilith shuffled uncomfortably in her dress, rubbing her arm. “I was hoping it could be our secret actually.”_

_Alador tilted his head to the side, “so like a secret club?”_

_“Yeah!” she beamed._

_Alador had simply shrugged and agreed with her. Picking up a rusting mug or two._

_Since then it had become their little secret. Their secluded retreat for when they had been younger. There they played, danced and grew up together._

It was nearly abandoned now. 

Alador could tell that no one had touched it since they had left. For their hammock and photos still hung on it’s walls. 

He could practically hear her singing the sea shanties they had written together in the dead of night when naming the stars.

_“Cruel and cold, like winds on the sea” she sang in her low and mysterious voice._

_Alador let out an amused chuckle, “What are you doing?”_

_She smiled at him but ignored him nonetheless._

_“Will you ever return to me~”_

_Making her way towards him she laced her fingers into his and he laughed as she began to spin them around. Dancing to the rhythm of her voice. Their heels tapped on the thin floorboards of the ship._

_He was 15 then._

_“Hear my voice, sing with the tide”_

_He joins her this time._

_“My love will never die.”_

_Letting his hand rest on her waist and the other interlacing into hers. They let their foreheads press onto one another, but did not dare come any closer._

_Because they were both scared._

_“Over waves, and deep in the blue. I will give up my heart for you.”_

_They’re a breath away from each other’s lips, and he aches to kiss them. But he holds back his urges, just like he always does._

_“Ten long years, I’ll wait to go by.”_

_Their voices melded into one another like they belonged there. Like they were made to sing in the dead of night, dancing the night away._

_She had gotten better at dancing over the years. He had taught her well he assumed._

_“My love will never die.”_

Alador cries. It is his daughter’s birthday and he is spending it crying. 

He misses holding her. He misses brushing her hair and holding her hand. Singing with her and just being in her presence. 

Titan does he miss her. 

He hopes she is okay. That she does not experience the fate he had been cursed with. That she came home to a loving spouse and child. That she had a job she enjoyed and that she was happy. 

He hoped she wasn’t alone. 

For now, he could only hope that the woman he had been in love with since he was ten was happy with her life, even if he was not in it. 

\--x--

Samuel was angry. 

It was understandable really. When your only daughter came home crying because her best friend told her she was a weakling you did not simply take it easily. 

He knows this isn’t Amity’s doing. Because children that age are not aware of what is “weak” and “strong”. 

This was her parents’ doing. 

“I’m going out.” he said to his husband, who was currently hugging their daughter in attempts to comfort her. 

“Sammy. Please don’t do anything rash.”

“I’m not gonna do anything rash Cal. Just gonna punch that Blight in the face.”

His husband’s voice became high in worry, “Which one?!”

“I don’t know! I’ll decide on the way.” he snapped, making his way towards the door. 

No one, and he meant no one, was allowed to hurt Willow like that. And no one should be instilling morals like that on a child. 

He stormed off, practically fuming as he passed the streets. It was much later in the evening, and though some time had passed, his anger only grew. 

He passes a dimly lit lamp post when he spots a man in a seemingly empty street. 

It was Alador Blight. 

“Blight!” he bellowed angrily, making his way over to him. 

Alador turned to face him and was surprised to see him. The man was dressed in velvets and silk, smelling slightly of salt water and oil paints. It angered him further that he turned to see him with an emotionless facade. 

“Is your tone quite necessary Park?” he questioned. 

He was going to kill him. 

“Do you want to explain why my daughter came home crying? Or why your child is telling others they are weaklings?” 

Alador frowned, “If you are worried about my child then you should speak to Odalia about this.”

He gritted his teeth, “Listen here Alador. I may not have all the shiny rich bullshit you all care about so much but I know what being a parent is. And if a 7 year old is telling others that they are weak for going at their own pace then you are doing something horribly wrong.”

“Do not question my parenting methods Samuel.”

He scoffed, “ _You’re_ parenting methods? If I know you at all I’d think that you let that wife of yours do most of it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are neglective. You know why?” he asks, ignoring the fire igniting in his usual empty looking eyes. “Because you are a coward. It’s why you cut me out when we were kids. And it’s why you shut Caleb out after graduation and it’s why you never went after Lily. Because you are a coward Alador Blight. A simple minded coward!” 

Samuel could not stop the words coming out of his mouth for the life of him. Even if he knows that he is treading a thin line, he could not get the image of his crying daughter out of his head. 

“I am not a coward! Do not speak to me that way.” he demanded. 

Samuel could laugh at the poor man. 

“Oh and why not? Because you are a Blight? Because your name gives you everything you could have asked for? Admit it. You hate how you’re living now. Because despite having everything you do not have love.” 

Alador sneered at the man, “Your kind mistake affection for love. I don’t need those casualties.”

He prepared to walk away before Samuel began to talk again. But he couldn’t help but feel like he had fallen into ice at his words. 

“Then what about your children?”

His heart stopped and his blood ran cold. 

What about his children?

“Do they not need affection? Do they not need love, care and guidance? They’re children Alador! You may not need it but your children will!”

“DO NOT. Bring my children into this.” he snapped. 

Samuel only continued, ignoring the man’s orders. He may not have his social standing, but he refused to be pushed around. 

“I’m not foolish Alador. I see the way Amity flinches when I raise my arm too quickly. Or how she alway yelps at loud noises.”

She… she did?

“You need to raise your children with love and compassion not with violence.”

“I do not have a say in this matter.” he said, because it’s true. He didn’t. He had a part to play and so did Odalia. And his part just didn’t involve disciplining their children. 

“Yes you do! You are their father and you are failing them!”

“If I’m such a bad parent then how come my children are 10 times more skilled than yours!”

It’s then that Samuel could not harness his anger any longer and clenched his fist and punched him square in the nose. Alador felt a burning ache at the contact. Blood dripped onto his dress shirt and Sam’s hand ached just a bit. 

Alador swore under his breath and turned to face the stocky man. His face burned and he was pretty sure he had broken his nose. 

The man before him seethed, “Listen here Blight. My daughter may not learn as quickly as yours but at least I can guarantee that she isn’t scared of me. At least I know that I can be there for her when she needs it and that she feels safe coming to me for guidance."

Alador held his bruised face as his former school friend began to calm down. Despite the awful pain on his nose he could not help but feel something that ached greater than his face.

He was a horrible father. 

How long had it been like this? How long had he allowed his wife to treat him and his children like dolls in her dollhouse? How long had he turned a blind eye when he had seen all the signs before him? 

How long had he enabled her behavior?

“Here. Put this on when you get home. It’ll speed up the healing process.” Samuel instructed as he handed him a circular box. 

He looked stunned at him, “What?”

The bearded man sighed, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just got emotional. Don’t go after my kid you got that? Or you’ll be feeling more of that.” 

Alador simply nodded and took the box from his hand. Guilt eating up at his chest again. They had been friends before, but he had let that and several other relationships go when he had gotten married. And when he became responsible for the Blight name. 

“Listen to me Alador.” 

Samuel did not like Alador. He had caused much pain and suffering to him and his family. His friends even. He remembers the day he had chosen his name over their friendship. The day Lilith had simply held his hand and kissed his cheek in departure and how Caleb had cried.

But he also remembers a boy who was lost and trapped. No matter how much older he grew, Alador was still just that. 

Lost. 

“You may be a Blight but now you are first and foremost a father. You need to be there for your kids. I know this is Odalia’s doing. And you’re even worse for just standing there and doing nothing. They are your children. Protect them and for Titan’s sake get some courage.” 

He later turns his heel because there is nothing more to say. Words grew thin when emotion did as well. He hoped Alador would take his warnings, or he may just have to watch another group of children end up just as he had. 

Alone. 

Alador would not condone being treated in such respect as he had just then. But he could not bring himself to care at the moment. All he could think was how horrible he had been to his children. 

He was protecting them. He didn’t mean to hurt them. He swore he had no bad intentions. Alador was only trying to protect them, even if they did end up hurt in some way. 

That was the problem wasn’t it. They ended up hurt anyway. 

And he would do nothing. 

He doesn’t realize he’s already home until he feels the gravel under his feet. Not knowing what to do, he simply walked into his home and hung his coat. Eager to try the ointment on his aching face. 

But his feet stop dragging themselves when he sees little Emira tip toeing into her sisters room carrying a first aid kit from under a loose floorboard. 

Making his way to the hallway he had seen her cross, he follows her into his youngest’s bedroom. Worry spurring in his head. 

Door swinging open, he spots Edric on the floor hugging a sniffling Amity as Emira begins to bandage her forearm. 

They freeze at his presence. 

Their eyes looked terrified. 

“Father! I- I…” Emira began as she stumbled away from Amity’s bruised arm. The damage took an awful purple and red hue and he thinks he’s going to be sick. 

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, trying to ignore the way his daughter flinched as he drew closer. 

“I… I was making a mess. And... mother got angry. I swear I won’t do it again!” she begged as he took hold of her hand to see the damage. 

He swore he couldn’t breathe, “How often does it happen?”

“Father what happened to your face?” Edric cut in, still protectively holding his hand. 

They’re afraid of me. The thought made him sick to his core. 

“I said, how often does it happen... Amity?” 

She holds her silence, before giving in, “Whenever I misbehave.” Her voice is small and fragile and Alador has never in his life been so heartbroken.

This was the last straw. 

He had been patient but that was his mistake. As much as he hated to admit it, Samuel was right. He had to be a father. He may be a Blight, but so were they. And he was their father. Blight or not, they were his children. 

The thought is daunting but he lets the rage overtake his mind instead.

“Stay here together and do not leave. Do you understand?” he ordered sternly. 

His children only nod. 

“I have to discuss something with your mother. I will call in your nanny so be good. Is that understood?”

“Yes father” they chimed in unison. 

He walks out the door and uses every remaining strength he has left to not storm in. Even angry he had some bit of self control. 

Odalia is a cruel but clever woman. She was cunning and incredibly patient. Seeing every angle and possibility before anyone else. But had an incredibly short temper with a knack for twisting her words into truth. He would not allow her to do so anymore. 

He would not allow his children to be hurt again. 

Emira was 9 Titan dammit. Yet there she was bandaging up her siblings like she had done it so many times before. And knowing her, it most likely had. 

He is upset. With Odalia and himself. Because Samuel was right yet again. He was a coward. 

But he would not be anymore. 

Swinging the door open, his wife was sitting at her vanity with a concerned look on her face. His face burned in anger this time. Though he was sure blood was still running out his nose. 

“What on earth happened to your face?” she asked in her awful sophisticated voice. 

His chest burns and he can feel the fear slowly catching up to him. But then he remembers the look in his children’s eyes. How scared and helpless they look. He could not fail them. He would not fail them. 

Gathering all the courage he had left, he uttered the words out of his mouth.

“I want a divorce.” 

\--x--

“Shit.” Lilith cursed as her hair turned straight and navy of all colours. 

She looks in the mirror and realizes how incredibly intimidating she looks. Her usual fluffy red hair was replaced with a cold blue one. Though it felt a lot lighter she didn’t really like it. 

She looked like a monarch of some sort. Like a coven leader of sorts. 

Lilith snorted. Her? A Head Coveness? That was hilarious. 

Looking at her notes she lets out a groan as she crosses the recipe out of her notebook. She’d have to find some way to reverse the potion. 

A sneeze reaches her and suddenly a burst of orange and grey feathers emerge from all over her arms. Letting out a whine, she plucked the feathers from her head. Having a curse wasn’t fun and it certainly wasn’t easy. Especially when you had no idea what it was.

Trying to cure a curse that had no proper remedy is incredibly difficult and _dangerous_ to produce. But Lilith was determined to find it. 

Experimenting was dangerous. And it had side effects. 

But she just happened to be the only other person she knew who had the curse. And Lilith isn’t cruel. She’d never experiment on someone else as if they were some sort of lab rat.

But that didn’t mean it made things any easier. 

Sometimes the side effects were small. Like her hair right now. Or how her entire body was electric for nearly a week that one time. They made for quick laughs at the teacher’s lounge much to her dismay. 

And sometimes the side effects were… not so nice. 

There had been an incident when she had messed up, and bad. Now she paid the price every month. Choking out blood and going through episodes of torturous pain wasn’t exactly what she’d call a minor inconvenience. And though any rational person would stop, Lilith couldn’t really do that. 

She had to make it up to Eda. And this was the only way she knew how. 

She sighed as she chugged down a bottle of elixir. ‘It’s okay’, she told herself. She deserved it. 

Opening the cabinet she took out a small vial of Dreamless Sleeping Draught. No longer did she dream of her and Edalyn’s departure, but something much, much worse. 

She dreamed of everything the Oracle had told her. 

She dreamed of being married. She dreamed of being with the man she had loved. She dreamed of a family. Three kids to be exact, just as the oracle told her. One son and two daughters. And they all had _his_ eyes. 

The problem wasn’t that she was dreaming of Alador though she may need to be concerned about that. 

No, the problem was that she was happy. And Lilith was the last person who deserved to be happy. 

Not to mention the ever growing pain that grew in her chest when she woke up…

She shook her head and tugged at her hair. It felt so weird to be able to run her hands through it instead of it getting all tangled. 

Taking a vial, she dropped a tiny drop onto her tea. Drinking all of the remainder in her mug. Today had been a long day. And she could do with some sleep. 

Crawling into her cotton bedding, she hoped that the measurements were correct. She couldn’t bear to dream of them again. In fact, she sort of hoped the nightmares came back. 

But sleep caught on to her and she soon learned that she did in fact get her measurements wrong. 

She finds herself dressed in lace and silk. Dancing with him in the garden. Their son is running with their youngest. Both marvelling over butterflies while their eldest blew dandelions. 

And Lilith wants to cry. She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve these dreams and the momentary joys they brought. She did not deserve to consider a life with her first and only love. No matter how much it broke her heart. She didn't deserve the right to dream.

Because Lilith Clawthorne was a horrible person. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone say thank u to Samuel Park for kickstarting Alador's redemption. He still has a long way to go but it's a good start :D


	3. To Give You All These Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alador has made promises in his youth. He has kept plenty and even broken a few. But these words he tells his eldest daughter is the truest thing he’s ever said in his life.
> 
> And he intends to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alador is doing better and Lilith... not so much.

A divorce, it turns out, is not as simple as signing a couple of documents and parting ways. Though sometimes, he really wishes it was like that. 

Divorce is messy. It’s painful and hard. It involves lots of sacrifice and compromise. Not to mention just the amount of people involved. 

Lawyers were hired left and right, family came over to convince him otherwise, private investigators were called and friends betrayed him. 

But Alador cared for none of those things. He did not need friends. And if his family would shut him out, then so be it. He did not care that he had to hire so many people and he did not care that the work was tiresome. Alador cared for one thing and one thing only. 

Getting custody of all three kids. 

He knows it's a stretch. He knows the odds are against him. But he would not forgive himself if he could not save his children from Odalia’s clutches. He would not allow it. 

Speaking of the kids, they all had different responses. 

Emira was panicked. As the eldest she was always there to protect the two, but now she had no real control over where they ended up. And she seemed to get more and more stressed every time he saw her.

Edric had been the calmest out of the three, and instead focused on comforting his siblings. He was found often hugging or soothing Amity in the dead of night. Alador could tell by the way he nodded off to sleep in the mornings. 

And as for Amity… Amity did not take it well.

For starters, she believed the entire ordeal was her fault. No matter what he said, she was fully convinced it was her doing. 

He’s nearly certain Odalia had told her so. 

Secondly, she didn’t understand why any of it was happening. And when Amity didn’t understand something, she tended to lash out. And  _ violently _ . 

Most of the time, Edric was able to calm her down. It was what came after that Alador worried about. 

Because hearing your 7 year old break down nearly every other day wasn’t exactly what Alador would presume as ‘normal’. 

He wanted to help. He really did. But the faster he gets the divorce over with, the better. He needed to focus on getting it all sorted out before dealing with the emotions. It was better this way. 

And in all honesty, Alador still doesn’t trust himself to be there for her in the way she needed. 

The last time he had trusted himself, his daughter had gotten hurt. 

“Sir?” a maid interrupts his train of thought.

“Yes?” he asks sternly, glaring at the documents in hand. 

The maid shifted nervously before handing him an envelope. He nodded and dismissed her immediately. Not in the mood for casualties. He tore it open and saw all of the finances that needed paying and all the dates for court trials. 

He angrily groans at the papers. The gilded clock across his office striked 11: 23. He could do with some sleep, he assumed. 

Getting up from his seat, he makes his way towards his bedroom. The house is quiet, like it usually is. He can hear every step he takes. They echo in his ears rhythmically in the halls of his home. 

But then he hears something that isn’t quite his footing. 

He turns to see the tiny tapping is coming from the large window next to the portrait hall. 

Emira. 

She sat there, gently drumming her fingers along the surface of the window. Completely lost in a trance. Alador swore she had never seen her so at peace. 

He slowly makes his way to her and takes a seat next to her. She jolts at the sudden disruption of silence. The tiniest bit of fear grew in her eyes. 

Alador hates it. 

“F-father! I… I wasn’t aware that you were awake.” She fumbled. 

‘Proper girls don’t mumble’ he can hear Odalia say. And he nearly tells her that too. He hates that that is the first thing that comes to mind. 

She isn’t even here and she still had control over him. 

“What are you doing awake?” He asks instead, trying to drown out her voice. 

Emira does not speak. She holds her silence as long as it is allowed. He can see her eyes shifting and analyzing him. As if she is constructing a lie judging by his body language. 

He hates it. 

But then her eyes soften. When she sees that he is not a threat her shoulders slump back. And he nearly comments on her posture again. 

Lord what has he become?

“Amity’s… crying again. Edric just got her to sleep,” she tells him truthfully. Though you could practically hear the hesitation dripping from her voice. 

“Edric went to bed too but…” she trails on, not wanting to say anything further. 

Alador doesn’t pry this time. 

An awkward silence takes place. Emira is distrustful of him, he realizes. She does not trust him with the weaknesses and flaws she had. 

No, he shakes his head. They were not weaknesses or flaws. They were… what's the word? Quirks?… no that wasn’t right. 

She didn’t trust him enough to be  _ vulnerable _ . 

He pretends the thought doesn’t hurt. Because hurting meant weakness. And he could not afford to be weak now. 

Emira’s eyes trace back out the window. He follows them to see them fixated on the stars. They twinkled like her eyes, and he wished he could tell her. 

“Do you… uh, like the stars?” 

God why was it so hard? 

His daughter has just the slightest spark of energy. Like she’s about to blabber on and on about the constellations he had once adored as well. 

But she stops herself, like a good little Blight. 

Instead she answers him politely. 

“When I can't sleep, I look at the stars,” Emira explains as she leans on the wooden surface. 

There’s a tiredness in her eyes that didn’t belong there. All the youthful, mischievous twinkle had left without a single trace. And he missed her energetic smile immediately.

He then gets an idea. A simple, quick escapade wouldn’t hurt... right? 

The idea makes him stand up just a bit straighter. Letting his shoulder fall back and his back push forward. Looking at his daughter, he catches her gaze. 

It is though he is looking into his own eyes. One of the few physical traits he had passed on to her. 

“Would you like to see the stars from a bit closer?”

Emira looks at him in awe, like it's too good to be true. Holding her breath, she does not hesitate to answer. 

“Yes please”

Alador does not waste time any further. He takes his eldest’s hands and leads her into the coat room. Where he drapes her in silk and felt, imported from The Head. A Hexmas gift sent by his mother last year. 

He buttons all the buttons and fastens a scarf around her neck. The colours of green and gold looked awfully muted in the dark. He then pulls up her hood and pushes the little hairs out of her face. It earns him a giggle from her. Who whispered “tickles!” happily. 

Alador doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a beautiful noise. 

Grabbing his own coat and accessories, they both made their way hand in hand out the door. After he gave orders to the maids of course. 

He carries Emira. She is small despite her big courage. And she’s light too. Though he was sure the pressures of being a Blight were a heavy burden on all his children. 

It is also, ultimately, the safest option. 

Getting on his staff, he places Emira gently in front of him. Security her between his arms. The girl sits comfortably on his staff and he kicks his feet up into the sky. His palisman, a small gray wolf, began to glow slightly to show the road. 

The air is cold and it tastes of mint. It fills his lungs as he heads towards the sky. His daughter’s small hands cling onto his arms as she marvels at the lights of the town of Bonesboroug at night. They shine and glitter like a child on Hexmas eve. 

Alador feels a small tugging at his chest and lips. They form a smile as he lifts her chin up to see the sky. 

His daughter lets out a gasp, marvelling in awe at the lights above. She laughs. And it’s not quiet or polite. It isn’t how her mother taught her and it certainly wasn’t how he did. No, it was real. It was the laugh of a child. Full of pure innocent happiness. 

He can’t remember the last time she’s laughed like that. 

“Papa! Look!” she cried, pointing at the moon. It held all hues of blue, grey and even hints of yellow. It emitted a great light that kissed all sides of her face. 

She doesn’t call him ‘father’ despite it being more proper. Instead, she calls him ‘papa’ and his heart swells. 

He feels happy. Happier than he’s felt in a long, long time. 

Suddenly, the air doesn’t taste like mint anymore. It tastes like sweet lemon drops and honey. It isn’t even cold anymore. The pure joy of his daughter was enough to keep him warm. 

Looking out towards the beach, he sets his staff down. Carefully carrying Emira into his arms. 

They make way to the cave he had last visited nearly 3 months ago (did he mention that the divorce was difficult?). Emira buries her head into her father’s shoulders. 

He supposed the cave was scary at night.

“Only a bit further now,” he promised as he caressed her hair. 

She holds onto him just a bit tighter. And Alador knows immediately that she does not trust him.

It hurts. 

But he does not dwell on the pain. He instead focuses on getting out as fast as he can. 

When he meets a clearing, he casts a single light spell from his hands and holds it out for Emira to take. She slowly lifts her chin up and takes it. Letting the warm ball of light rest at her palms. 

”Now hold on tight okay?”

She only nodded distantly as she stared at the ship in awe. Nearly dropping the ball of light in the process. He didn’t blame the girl one bit, it was a magnificent sight to behold. 

He headed inwards towards the ship, careful to skip the loose step. Emira did as she was told and held onto her father. Careful not to drop the ball of light in her hands. Alador smiled at the girl in his arms. 

He climbs the sturdy heddings and began to make way towards the crow’s nest. From what he’s read in storybooks, this one was significantly larger than most ships. Emira’s attention seemed to be captured by the loose ropes and creaking wood of the ship. Finally reaching his destination, he climbed onto the platform. 

“Now look up,” he told her. 

Emira dropped the light as she stared at the stars, captivated by all it’s glory. Her eyes sparkling with the same joy they had once upon a time.

He ignores the memory of a certain other girl who loved the stars just as much as his daughter did. 

Now was not the time to dream of his Lily. 

“Papa look!” she cried, pointing to the set of stars in shape of a swirl. 

He chuckled, “Do you know what that is?”

She shook her head eagerly. 

“That’s Warden’s Rose. They say a boy who wandered so far into the woods cried so much that he watered the roots of a great tree.” he began, seeing the way she beamed in happiness. 

“The tree grew so tall that they reached the skies. And then, a single rose sank into the night and became one with the stars.” 

“What happened to the tree?” 

Alador grinned, “The boy’s mother found him. And after that, he didn’t water the tree anymore. So then the tree fell into the earth and made the great bridge at the Head.” 

Usually, he is not one to tell children of fairy tales. His mother had been quite vocal about her distaste for them in his youth. But then again, he had broken the one big rule they had given him. So might as well break a couple more while he’s at it.

“How about that one?” she asked excitedly, gesturing towards the one shaped like two V’s. 

“Those are the two lovers. The one on the right is the child of moon and the one on the left is the child of sun.” 

“Woah…” she whispered under her breath. 

“Yes. The child of sun loved her so much she begged the mother sun to set every night so they could meet. And they would dance together in the light of the moon until the sun had to come out again.” 

Emira began waving her hand happily, confusing her father. She even whispered a small “Hello!” Which, as adorable as it was, was a bit strange. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Saying hi to them! They can see us, right papa?” 

Normally Alador would scold her for such childish antics. But he couldn’t help but let the smile on his face grow at her joy. 

He was unfamiliar with this feeling. It was warm and fuzzy yet… scary? All at once? Like there was a hint of dread he always felt, but was always overpowered by intense love and joy around them. 

Was this what it felt like to be a parent?

“Yes. I believe they can.” 

Emira grinned from ear to ear and stared into the stars again. Blabbering about something regarding navigation and sailors. Alador couldn’t help but hang onto every word the little girl was spewing out, as if his life depended on it. He could sense that there were some errors and even lies within her words. But he did not say anything. He trusted that his daughter would learn later on. 

“Emira,” he started cutting her off. 

The girl stared at him, and suddenly his heart stopped again. There isn’t a hint of hesitation or distrust in her eyes this time.

More importantly, there’s no  _ fear _ . 

She doesn’t look at him like he is this big and mighty ruler deserving of respect. She looks at him for what he is. 

A father. 

He tries not to cry at the thought. 

“Emira dear. I… I have not done the… best job of parenting you.” he started, his hands trembling slightly. He stopped it as soon as he noticed. Blights did not tremble. It was unbefitting. 

His daughter listened to him patiently, with the sense of maturity that did not belong in a 9 year old. 

“And… and I am trying my best to be better. I hope you understand this.” 

He wishes to apologize, but Alador doesn’t do that. For he doesn’t know how to. 

Blights did not apologize. Because to apologize meant to admit fault, and Blights simply did not make mistakes. Blights did not teach their children to admit fault. 

But Alador  _ had _ made a mistake. And he wanted to apologize. It was just that he found it awfully  _ difficult _ to utter out the words “I’m sorry” to anyone. Much less his daughter. 

“I will do everything I can to make sure you and your siblings never get hurt again. And… and I will do better,” he settles instead. 

Emira looks at him knowingly, and wraps her little arms around him. Emira does not forgive her father, but she trusts that he will try. And she trusts that he will keep his word. 

She trusts him. 

“I trust you Papa. It’s okay.” she says, before rubbing her eyes. Sleep had finally caught up to her. 

Alador’s heart twists and turns inside of him. Like fireworks had gone off all around his body. Though she is unaware, her words mean more to him than anything. More than his wedding vows, more than his father’s approving lecture. More than any of the few times his parents said the words “I’m proud of you.” 

Alador has made promises in his youth. He has kept plenty and even broken a few. But these words he tells his eldest daughter is the truest thing he’s ever said in his life.

And he intends to keep it that way. 

His daughter rests her head lazily onto his shoulder. Clearly growing sleepy. A single most silent tear falls from his eyes. He blesses the Titan that she is too tired to notice. 

“Do you want to go home now?” 

“Mhm,” she mutters drowsily. Hands loosely falling over his neck and back. Alador forces back a sad chuckle. 

Getting on his staff, he carefully props her in front of him. His daughter is barely awake. Nodding off as she lazily held onto her father. Alador reminds himself to hold her closely. So that she does not fall. 

They make their way to the house, as quickly as one could fly on a staff. Emira is long gone into slumber before the land on the gravel of their ancestral home. Alador is careful to not wake her, holding her close to his chest. Though he does struggle to climb a couple of the steps. Not to mention she stirs a couple times he tries to open the door to her bedroom. 

He carefully places her under her vibrant pink bed sheets. Bringing them to her shoulders, he catches her scrunching her nose slightly. Only to immediately fall back into her deep slumber. Alador smiles at the sight. 

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s done this. Tucking his children into bed. Surely it did not feel this peaceful when he last did it. But… he liked it. And wished to do it more often. 

“Good night little princess,” he whispers as he kisses her forehead softly. The old nickname fits perfectly on his lips. 

He makes his way to the door and turns to see his eldest one last time. For once, she is at peace. Alador could not think of anything more precious in all the isles he had seen. 

_ ‘I trust you papa. It’s okay.’  _

He took in a deep breath, closing the door behind him. Emira trusted him. She had placed the single most fragile thing she owned to him. He did not plan on failing her. 

“I will do better,” he repeats to himself. 

And this is a promise he plans to keep. 

\--x--

Pain. 

She’s in pain.

Her chest felt as though it were on fire. Like it was burning with the heat of a million suns. Every bit of her bones ached and her skin was though it were getting stabbed by swords coated in boiling rain. Her lungs refused to intake much air. And her rising heartbeat did not help in the slightest. 

Her throat hurts too. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s been lying there. Screaming in agony on the floor of her kitchen. The tears that trickled down her cheeks had stained much of her hair and face. Not to mention the edge of her collar. 

Her hands and legs sprawl uselessly on the floor around them. Hair digging uncomfortably at her shoulders, she lets out a hiss as a sharp pain spiked in her heart. 

The pain is all she can think about. 

She had been just fine a moment ago. A moment ago she had been standing atop of her table (she’s gone short she gets it) to reach her cabinets. A moment ago she could breathe normally without feeling like she was getting stabbed. 

And then came the coughing, which eventually led to her coughing out something that really should have stayed inside. Because she’s pretty sure blood isn’t supposed to come out of her like that. 

And then she collapsed. And the pain had moved from her chest to everywhere in mere seconds her body had hit the floor. 

Lilith let out another broken scream at the sudden pulse of pain in her right arm. 

Soon she could scream no longer, instead reducing into a heaving mess. Her palisman could do nothing but watch his master suffer the after effects of her disease. 

‘It’s okay,’ Lilith assured herself.  _ She deserved it. _ She had brought it onto herself, she had no one to blame but herself. 

The thought did make the pain go away. 

Her vision was blurry from all the crying she had done. And the buzzing in her ear made it hard to hear. All her other senses were interrupted by the agonizing pain that invaded all of her body. 

Eventually, it got better, and her skin no longer burned. But Lilith couldn’t find the strength in her to stand up. Her palisman took notice and dragged a cold cloth around her neck. If Lilith hadn’t strained her voice screaming she would have thanked him. 

The pain slowly subsided, but never fully went away. Lilith tiredly lay on her floor, with no intention of ever getting up. 

Her senses came back too. She could finally see the ceiling of her kitchen. Painted in soft yellows, like the colour of their eyes. Lilith can also hear the thumping of Callum’s wings. 

She can also smell blood.  _ Her _ blood. 

A frustrated groan comes out at the thought of having to clean it again. 

Blood, it turns out, was awfully hard to clean off of hardwood floors. She blessed the titan for the existence of magic. 

Aside from that, she could taste the blood at the tip of her tongue. The strange metallic taste did not bode well with her senses. 

Callum lets out a chirp, pushing a glass of elixir towards her. Forcing her hands up, she gets off of the ground. But not without great difficulty. 

Forcing her hand to fall on the cold wood, she forces the bitter potion down. A grunt erupted from her estranged throat. Caleb only chirped in worry. 

‘You deserve this’ is all Lilith could tell herself. It only made sense. 

She tried to cast a spell in the air, but her hand plummeted to the ground before she could complete the circle. Lilith tried again and again. Only to fail miserably. After what seemed like an eternity, the spell was finally complete. The blood she had coughed out vanished from the floor. 

Her palisman nuzzled her hand sympathetically. She smiled at him gratefully, petting its head. 

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, but they both knew better than that. 

Lilith laid back on the floor, tiredly closing her eyes. She’d get up... eventually. The redhead knew better than to sleep on the floor. It’d be horrible for her back and she could not go to class with an irritable mood. Especially with Boscha in her first period. The girl was talented on the grudby field and not the worst in her classes either. She just… well how could she say it nicely? 

Was an arrogant, spoiled child in every sense of the word. And that was coming from one of the only people she had some sort of respect for. And that was only because she was her coach. 

Though her body still ached, the majority of the pain had finally gone. And she could not be more grateful. 

Feet finally planting onto the ground, she grabbed onto the counter and pushed herself up. Knees trembling as she did. She leaned onto the short table, using it to support her way into her bedroom. 

The draught lay on her nightstand but she did not make any attempt to reach out for it. She was tired titan dammit and if the nightmares were to come to her then so be it. 

Faceplanting onto her bed, she did not change into her nightgown. She simply crawled under the covers and let her body hit the cotton bedding. It did not take long for slumber to reach her. 

It was not the nightmares that got to her today. 

She opens her eyes to see a portrait in front of her. One depicting a woman with auburn hair and gray eyes. The woman sat gracefully on a velvet seat, her eyes looking soulless. Like there was no life behind her cold stare. 

Lilith suppressed a shiver at the sight. 

Similar lifeless gazes filled the hallway she stood in. And she was nearly certain she had seen them all somewhere before. 

But where had she seen them?

A tugging at her skirt makes her lose her train of thought. 

Looking down, she spotted a tiny girl with a patch of brown hair. Similar to the portrait she had been staring at before. But unlike the others, her eyes were brimming with life. Yellow, like the color of her ceiling. 

It… it was  _ his _ kid. 

The girl was wearing a pink silk nightgown and rubbed her eyes tiredly. 

“Momma, up.” she said tiredly. 

Lilith’s mind short circuited at her words. Did… did she just call her “mom?” W-what?

She would panic further, but the girl doesn’t allow her too. 

“Momma, Up!” she begins to whine, raising her arms out lazily. 

“I-er, yes.” Lilith said uncomfortably. 

Not knowing what else to do, she picked up the girl in her arms. Who clung onto her neck and rested her head on her shoulder. Lilith tensed at her sudden contact, but the girl didn’t seem to mind. Or perhaps she was just too tired to care. 

Then a sound of joyful laughter erupted from downstairs. Two children, a boy and a girl, came running into the hallway. Looking nearly identical to one another. 

They circled her, as if the boy were trying to catch his twin (or so she assumed). The older girl shrieked in laughter as she clung onto the back of her skirt. 

“Mama! Don’t let him get to me!” she hollered, making Lilith tense just a bit more.

She reminds herself that she is still holding the other child in her arms when she begins to nuzzle the side of her face. 

“Mama, why won’t Mittens play with us?” the boy asked her. Standing on the tip of his toes to look at her closer. 

Mittens?

What in the isles was going on?

“Children. Hope you’re not giving your mother a hard time?” a familiar voice said in the sea of foreign ones. 

A man dressed in purples and blacks emerged from the staircase below. Hair combed back neatly, though a few strands stuck out. His tie was loose, something he had never done before. The sleeves of his dress shirt were neatly folded at the cuffs. 

Alador…

“No Papa,” they responded in unison. All holding beaming smiles. 

Oh… it was  _ those _ dreams again.

He laughed at the two, his real one to boot. His laugh that showed too much teeth. His laugh that his parents did not approve of. That laugh. 

Titan had she missed it. 

“Your sister is tired, and you two should be too.” he said, ripping her gaze away from him. 

The boy shook his head, “I never get tired,” he proclaimed. His sister followed suit. Alador gave them a knowing look, but didn’t say anything else. 

He made his way over to her, her breath hitching as he did. 

“I’ll tuck them in. We should get that one to bed too,” he chuckled as he brushed the hair of the girl in her arms. 

She let out a small whine and Lilith can’t help but smile. There’s a warm sensation invading her heart. And… she isn’t quite sure what it is. 

“I’ll take her to her room,” she assured him. 

Her eyes widen when he gives her a lingering peck on her cheek. Alador gave her a small smile, like it was a daily occurrence between the two. He then guided the twins (she’s most certain that they are) to their rooms. Leaving her alone with the brunette girl, who was a spitting image of her father. 

“Momma I’m tired,” the girl said in a sleepy tone, hands dangling at her back.

“I- ah. Yes dear,” she says, at a loss for words. 

She makes her way towards where Alador had gone. Leaving the hallway of empty eyes. She walked into a bedroom full of pink and pastel wallpapers. Judging from the Otabin poster and messily drawn pictures, it was most likely her room. 

Lifting the pink sheets, she carefully rested the girl on her mattress. The girl lazily searched for something. Lilith spotted a plush Otabin on the side of her nightstand. She took it in her hand and nudged it towards her. “Mittens” took it happily and snuggled close to it. 

Lilith doesn’t know why her heart bursts at the sight. 

“Good night Mommy. Love you.” 

Lilith feels a tear trickled down her cheek. She doesn’t know why she’s so emotional. Lilith knows all of this is a dream. That she is not a mother, but a teacher. That she did not live with a family of her own, but alone in the middle of the woods. 

She wants this. She wants this so bad. 

But she doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to be happy. 

Her body freezes upon feeling a pair of lips at the side of her head. She looks up to see Alador staring at her all lovingly. And a part of her hates it, while another loves it wholeheartedly. 

She didn’t deserve this. 

“You will be fine Lily,” he assured, giving her hand a squeeze. 

Then she wakes up. 

Her eyes open and they stare into the ceiling of her bedroom. The warmth in her chest vanishes immediately upon coming back to reality. She’s cold. It’s all she can think about. 

She’s cold. 

The pain she had felt yesterday was nothing compared to this. The hollowness void that ate at her heart was far greater than the ache in her bones. 

This pain was maddening. 

Lilith sinks into her knees, bringing her hands to her face. She repeats her mantra. 

She is Lilith Clawthorne. She is the student of Lady Robyn and Hexide’s potions teacher. She lives alone in the woods like she deserves. She cursed her sister on the day of the arena. She fell in love with her best friend and he marries her worst enemy. She no longer talks to her sister, for she had broken her beyond repair. 

She is also a horrible person. 

Lilith deserves all the pain she feels. In fact, she deserves far worse than this. 

And Lilith does something she hasn’t done in a long time. 

She allows herself to weep. Not for the physical suffering, but all the internal. 

Just this once, behind the secrecy of the woods, she allows herself to cry. To let the guilt and the sorrow overtake all of her being. 

She does not go to work that day. 

\--x--

He watches as the last bit of her stuff is put into carriages. The slam of the doors echo in his ears and it finally dawns on him. 

He has won. 

Alador has won. His children are his responsibility. And though she still roams the streets, they cannot hurt them anymore. 

She cannot hurt them anymore. 

Months of work had finally paid off, and he had won. 

He had won. 

He could almost laugh in triumph. But he does not. He bites back his urges, because he is a good Blight. 

Speaking of Blights, Odalia was no longer one. She was known to the world as Odalia Farechild once more. And though he is sure she will twist the story to make herself the victim, he could not find it in himself to care. 

She is not here to tell their children farewell. Odalia had sent others to gather her things. She had simply walked out the door weeks prior and had not returned. 

Their children would see her again, but she no longer had an iron grip on them. 

He sighs in relief. He has won. He repeats this to himself. 

The tapping behind him startles him, and he sees his children cling onto him. Emira holds onto the hem of his sleeve. Careful not to tug on it too hard. Edric was on his left, lacing his hands into his own. 

And what surprises him is that Amity is there too. Without the usual scroll on her face. She tightly grasps onto the hem of his cardigan. He places a hand on her hand, and much to his shock, she leans in closer. 

They watch as the last of her leave their home. No longer stalking it’s halls and residence. Unbeknownst to him, his children felt a great sense of relief. Followed by a wave of guilt. She was their mother after all, but the little spark of ease. Like the weight on their shoulders were lifted, if only slightly. 

He gestured towards the inside of their home, which no longer held an aura of danger. It was… comforting… in a way.

None knew what would happen beyond today, and there was much to be feared. But for now, they could simply breathe. They could all take a little break for now. Something Blights never did. 

But Alador had broken many promises of his family name, so he supposed it was not out of the ordinary for them. 

For now they were okay. 

They were okay. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our Baby Blight shall meet sad red head in next chapter.


	4. At The Tip of My Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My siblings broke him,” she told her. Hoping that the woman didn’t think she was reckless herself. 
> 
> The woman hummed, “I wouldn’t say he’s broken. Damaged? Yes. Tattered up? Certainly, but not broken. Broken would mean that it is beyond repair. And something I’ve learned over the years is that nothing is ever quite broken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby Blight meets sad red head.
> 
> Edit: I GET IT YALL I DIDN'T KNOW HE HAD A CANON FIRST NAME I FIXED IT

**IMPORTANT:**

Alexander and Delavina Clawthorne belong to VanillaTea360 and so do the entire concepts of the LeClaire Family. I do not own them. I repeat. **I DO NOT OWN THEM**. I also have made sure she was okay with it. I am also in the middle of wrapping up my other fic so pls be patient with updates. Thank u. 

\--x--

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

“For the last time Hieronymus, corsets aren’t that bad.”

“Does your ribcage not hurt?”

“No my ribcage does not hurt. Corsets were the equivalent of undergarments and only lost it’s image due to the misogyny of men.” she snapped, crossing her arms to further prove her point.

Bump gave her a knowing look, smiling uncaringly. Though it was debatable, he knew better than to judge his coworker’s sense of fashion. Even if it was somewhat _old_ in his opinion. 

“Delavina hated those, you know that?”

“Mom disliked a lot of things.”

“Yes but corsets were really high on that list.”

Lilith, despite being much younger than him, dressed even more ancient than he was. But do not let that fool you, for she was just as sharp as her youth. Climbing her ranks as a teacher and tutor faster than anyone ever had. Parents made offers left and right to have the young woman privately tutor their children. 

To the surprise of many, Lilith actually liked children. 

From what he heard, she deemed them “more worthy of my time than the corrupt minds of the old.”

He isn’t sure why he found it incredibly funny. 

“Just don’t die wearing that thing,” he teased as they both exited the school steps. 

“First of all,” she began, clipping the top button of her cloak. “Depending on the corset, they are highly effective against stabbing.”

Bump doesn’t know why she knows that, and doesn’t want to know either. 

“So I’m more likely to be protected wearing them than die in it. And also, it keeps my posture straight and relieves back pain. Not to mention they’re more functional than modern undergarments.” 

Hieronymus only laughs at his former pupil. Oh how she’s grown over the years. No longer was she the shy child who played wondrously on the grudby field. Now she was an esteemed teacher, a prized one among the isles. 

She’s gone sadder too, he’s noticed that. 

Lilith has never been alone in her youth. She’s always had that sister of hers stuck at her hip for as long as he can remember. And even when the spunky girl ran off to her other friends, Lilith could always be found holding hands with the young Blight boy. Both leaning on each other while reading a book they found at the town’s library. A small smile reaches his lips when he remembers the two of them running around the hallways, always hand in hand. Denying any implication of a romantic relationship. 

But it falters when he remembers that she’s alone now. Alone in that small cottage of hers in the woods. Shut out from the world, building walls in fear of hurting anyone else. 

All at the cost of hurting herself. 

Despite being a literal criminal of the Boiling Isles, Edalyn is more free than the two combined. 

Bump can see the emptiness in Alador’s eyes the rare times he picks up Edric and Emira from school. Or the times he longingly stares at her classroom, making sure he does not linger long enough to actually see her. He can see the way the young boy has lost his wolfish like grin and instead replaced it with a soulless facade. 

Despite the two being one of the most esteemed witches in the isles, they are so broken. Disconnected from those around them. Bump wishes he could do something about it. 

But he is only a teacher, and they are no longer his students. There is not much he can do but hope. 

“How is that exam of yours going?” he asks, changing the subject to silence his saddening thoughts. 

Lilith’s eyes perked up, though they no longer burned with the same fire they had in their youth. That fire had been long extinguished. 

He wished he didn’t miss it so much. 

“Very well actually. I may even get my license early. Then I can actually start tutoring! And since I didn’t actually seal away my magic I don’t have to deal with all the ritual nonesense,” she said excitedly. 

Clinging onto her bag in retaliation, Bump smiled at her. Though her original career choice had been thrown out the window, he couldn’t help but feel happy that it didn’t turn out the way she planned. The image of Lilith as a coven guard or even a Head Coveness nearly made her laugh. Knowing her, she’d probably change her appearance drastically. And no, he isn’t thinking about the time she came to work with straight and navy hair after a potion’s accident. 

Really he isn’t. 

“I never thought you’d be one to like children. You always gave me a Head Coven kind of aura. I guess you take more after your mother than I thought,” he teased. 

Lilith grumbles in embarrassment. Knowing exactly what he was alluding to. 

“Hieronymus I swear to titan,” she then stopped, at a loss for words as her face heated up. “I- I do not take after my father that much!” 

“Sure you don’t Lily.” 

“Bump you will die tomorrow and it won’t be from old age.” 

“That stung Clawthorne.” 

“You act like mom hasn’t said worse.”

He chuckled at the thought of Delavina. Oh what a hassle she was. He was so very glad that she was no longer in school. 

But of course she went and dumped her youngest onto him. So that satisfaction was short lived. 

The crash of clouds make both their heads shoot up, staring at the cloudy sky. Raising their staffs in the air, they transformed them into umbrellas. Lilith’s taking a blue color in contrast to his magenta. 

“You think you can get home safe?” he offers. 

Lily smiles and gives him a nod, “I’ll be fine. My house is only a bit farther down. There’s no need to worry.”

Bump gave her a worried look but did not bother arguing with her. If he learned anything from teaching all 4 of the Clawthornes, it was that you should never try arguing with them. 

You would always lose… except for Alexander. You could probably make him cry within 2 minutes of mentioning his hair. 

“Take care of yourself Lilith. And maybe take a day or two off.”

She gave him a look, “I took a day off a month ago.”

“An actual day off, not so you can complete commissions or prepare for grudby lessons. When was the last time you actually did something fun?”

“Would you look at the time, I gotta go if I want to make it home before the rain gets any worse,” she interrupted, beginning to walk away from him. 

Bump only rolled his eyes at the woman clearly running from her problems. 

Yet another trait she got from Alexander. 

…Look it wasn’t that he didn’t like the Clawthornes… he just didn’t like any that weren’t Lilith. So that counted for something right?

“You can’t run from me Clawthorne! You literally work for me!” He cried from behind. 

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow Hieronymus. Tell your husband I said hi!” She yelled, walking just a tad faster. 

The old man shook his head yet again at her antics. Making way towards his own home, he stares at the misleading rain. He had heard of a strange phenomenon the other day about cold rain in the human realm. Not cold enough to be frozen but nowhere near warm. He wondered what it felt like to be able to run in it. 

He laughed at himself. How silly it was to think of running in the rain. Surely his husband was messing with him. But then again, maybe he wasn’t. He always seemed to be rambling nonsense about the human realm. 

Lord did he love that man and his silly antics. 

Stepping on the stone path towards the market, he slips past the many youthful witches. Smiling as he recognized some of his own students. There were few that waved and few that looked away upon spotting him. He smiled at all of them, remembering his own youth. 

Maybe Lilith didn’t have the fire in her eyes anymore. The phoenix like wonder she and Edalyn had long ago. 

But they just may contain the strengths of the boiling rain. She did have teal eyes after all. 

\--x--

Amity does not know much about her father. 

She knows that he is 37 years of age and the only son of Fantessa and Jacob Blight. She knows that he is the head of the Abominations Coven and that she gets her brown locks from him. She knows that he knows much about fairytales and stars. Though, he’ll never admit this, and if you tried, you’d most definitely play the price.

But other than that, she can’t say she knows much else. 

Alador Blight is a mysterious person, even to his children. He is emotionless and bitter. Holding a gaze of ice and snow in his golden irises. Amity shivers just thinking about it. 

She also knows that he works. 

Father works until there is none left to work. Yet even then, it never seems to get done. He is always in his office, barricaded under all of the papers and pots of abomination goo. 

As stupid as it sounds, Amity misses him. She misses being able to go into his office and peer at him from behind his desk. When he’d give her a small smile and he’d show her his paintings. 

She misses him, but she will do well not to be a burden. 

Speaking of paintings, father paints a lot. 

His paintings are beautiful too. They are never a single shade off of reality. Each line and curve is never short from perfect. And unlike his gaze, they are warm. Covered in hues of red and yellows instead of the teals and purples the Blights were so inclined to wearing.

A part of Amity likes to think that they are proof that under all of his sharp demeanor, there was still a bit of softness there. Hidden from all of the world. 

But there is a particular subject that he seems to enjoy painting a lot. Or, someone, to be more specific.

He has a muse. 

Amity isn’t sure who she is, and father yelled the last time she asked. So it wasn’t like she was going to try. 

But she’s beautiful, Amity admits. She has curly red hair and the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. And despite being drawn in different mediums, they always shined like sapphires. Her skin is pale, like silk and porcelain. Her body is almost like a china doll. Fragile, but perfect in every curve and form. Like she was carefully sculpted from head to toe. 

Her smile is always kind, but her eyes are fierce. And the woman is often depicted in autumn fields or pirate ships. Sometimes even under a blanket of stars.

Most importantly, she is always smiling. She is always cheerful. Sometimes it’s in a way that’s peaceful, and sometimes in a way that was energetic. 

There are times she wonders what it would be like to hug her. Or whether her voice sounded like honeysuckles and fresh baked bread. Or perhaps if she was as soft as she looked in his paintings. 

The children have given her a name. She is “The Woman Made of Paint”. Or, “Lady of Paint” for short. She fills many of their conversations when the children grow bored. 

Sometimes Edric will make up stories about her, and tell them to Emira. They are beyond silly, they both think. The Lady of Paint couldn’t possibly have been in love with their father. She was just a character he had made up. And was too embarrassed to say so. 

Believe her, Amity knows. She’s made plenty of them herself. Not that she’d ever admit it.

“It could be a possibility,” he muttered in frustration. 

Emira only snorted at him, “How would father even know she was in love with him?”

“Who knows,” he shrugged. “Maybe he was in love with her too.” 

“That’s our father, Ed,” she teased, making her brother shy away in embarrassment. 

The twins have gotten… how do you say? More mischievous over the weeks. 

In mother’s absence, they seemed to be relishing in the new found freedom they had. But they never go too far. There is still a line father has drawn. They will be sure not to cross it. Well… as careful as 10 year olds could be. 

They are still Blights after all. 

She just wished she wasn’t the target of all their pranks. 

Everyday, once or twice a day, she’d end up with either a bucket of water on her head or something along those lines. A part of her tells her to just tell father and have them stop. But then… she didn’t want to be a bother. Father had a lot on his plate already. She’d do her best not to be any more of a burden. 

Speaking of burdens, Emira has taken Otabin hostage. 

“Give it back!” she demanded, trying to reach her sister’s grip. Her short legs failed her nonetheless. 

Emira stuck out her tongue, only raising her arms higher. At some point, Edric had walked in. Finding the situation quite amusing. He quickly picks his side and Emira wickedly passes it to him. 

Amity chases between them back and forth while they play catch with her beloved friend. Her demands fall on deaf ears as they continue their little game. 

Her heart beats faster the more time that goes on. Anger boils in her chest, but so does sadness and desperation. Amity has never felt so… pathetic. Not even when her mother had yanked at her hair while dying her hair green. Because at least that had a reason. It was a correction. That was fixing. 

This was not that. This was stupid and immature. She isn’t even sure why Ed and Em found it so fun. 

This was anything but fun. 

But Amity Blight doesn’t cry. She cannot cry. 

Eventually, Amity does grab hold of him. 

But so does Edric. 

Amity tugs carefully at her small friend, but Edric pulls back roughly. Which makes her make let out a squeak of concern. Emira seems to have made it a mission to make her even more miserable. 

“Stop it!” she begged, no longer keeping the harshness in her voice. 

A game of tug of war commessed between the children. Amity can feel the tears coming, and she feels pathetic. And she hates feeling pathetic. 

She hates feeling weak. But the twins seem to enjoy it when she feels that way. 

But Amity Blight doesn’t cry. She cannot cry. 

“Stop it!” she begs again. But they don’t listen. 

No one ever listens. Not mother, not father, not Edric or Emira. 

No one listens. 

They both pull from both ends and then Amity hears a tear of fabric reach her ears. Her eyes widen, but immediately close back when she falls back. Hitting the carpeted floor beneath her. The bottom half of her stuffed friend was all that was left of him in her hands. The head and chest are still being held by her older siblings. 

Their actions seemed to finally dawn on them when Amity stared at Otabin with horror in her eyes. Her beloved plush lay torn in her hands. 

She can feel the tears reaching her eyes. 

Mother would not approve of it. 

But mother was not here. 

“HOW COULD YOU!” she bellows. 

She snatches the other half of his body from Emira’s hands. Tears finally reach her eyes, but they don’t fall. She knows what will happen if they fall. 

She could not fall. 

“What is the meaning of this?” 

Father’s voice is cold, and they can all see the disappointment rise in his tired eyes when he sees the scene before him. The gold irises that they had all inherited from him were degrading. Judging and sneering at them all. Like a black poison running down their spines.

Amity feels angry at the twins, but the bitter taste in her mouth at the sight of the man did not go unnoticed either. 

“We didn’t mean to!” Emira shouts in defense. 

Typical. 

“We were playing and then-” Edric begins but is cut off. 

“Enough,” he orders sternly. The bags under his eyes grew darker each day. Making his eyes almost seem wolf like. 

Amity feels the bitterness grow in her mouth. Knitting her eyebrows together, she let out a frustrated snarl. Whether it was at the twins or her father, she didn’t know. 

The look in father’s eyes proves that he did not approve of such a reaction. 

“Edric, Emira. You will behave yourselves and apologize to your sister at once. I don’t want to see this behaviour again.” 

The twins blurt out stuttering apologies that meant nothing to Amity. These words would not bring her friend back. It would not turn back the clock. 

She also knows they are not sincere. The twins were threatened, if it weren’t for father they wouldn’t feel any remorse for what they’d done. In fact, she’s pretty sure they’d find it amusing. 

“Good. Now, Amity. Forgive them and have this done with.”

“No.” 

There is a silence. Everyone, including Amity herself, was surprised by her sudden bravery. Alador’s eyes grew impatient but he merely bared his teeth. Like he was struggling or even fighting with himself. 

The twins looked at their father’s unusual state, but Amity didn’t seem to notice. She only burned in her disheveled anger. 

If her mother taught her anything, it was that it was better to burn in anger than drown in sorrow. Anger had power. Sorrow, however, did not. 

“Amity, I will not repeat myself. They apologized. Forgive them and move on.” 

“No! They broke Otabin! I’m not going to forgive them!”

Amity doesn’t know why she’s being so… emotional. She can usually suppress these things. She was able to bite her tongue and follow orders. 

Why was it so hard now? 

The blood in her veins began to boil and she could no longer hear anything. The faint buzzing noise was all she could hear. She could see her father’s lips moving, his fangs poke out of this top jaw as they did. Though she knows he’s talking, she can’t hear any of it. 

She can’t hear anything. 

Yet the buzzing wouldn’t shut up. 

It eventually spread to her other senses. Her vision fuzzed and all she could see was her ruined stuffed toy in her hands. Broken and torn, just like her heart. Her skin burned and suddenly her dress clings uncomfortably to her body. Stings erupt in her eyes as she tries to blink back the tears. 

They broke Otabin. They broke the one thing she had left of Willow. 

‘Stop acting like a child!’ she can hear her mother’s voice say. 

Instead of her usual reaction to her mother, she doesn’t cower in fear. Actually, she sneers. 

Amity isn’t scared anymore. She doesn’t wonder what she had done wrong or why mother was upset with her. She doesn’t feel sad anymore. 

She’s angry. And it feels good in a twisted way. 

Her hands tighten around her plush, and a single most fragile tear falls from Amity’s eyes. They fall for the first time in many years. 

With a jolt, the buzzing gets louder. A void eating up her senses. The sight of Otabin disappeared and the infuriating ringing had only gotten louder.

She can hear voices, and they don’t exactly belong to anyone in the room. 

‘I’m sorry Ame.’

Willow…

It didn’t matter that there were luxurious gifts on the table. Willow had given it to her because she knew that she loved them. Her first and only best friend had given it to her. And it didn’t matter that it was cheap and childish. 

Otabin had meant more. _Willow_ had meant more. 

But they were both gone now. 

“Are you listening to me?” her father asks, and though he doesn’t yell, it’s mean. 

And it’s what breaks her. 

“I HATE ALL OF YOU!” 

Her voice echoes their walls and she immediately begins to run. Making it past the doors, the maids flinched as the girl ran towards the gates. The manor is left behind her, becoming smaller and smaller the more she kept moving. 

Her feet stomped ungracefully on the grass, thumping in strange and unrhythmic taps. Her lungs stung as she took a breath of air, still clutching Otabin in her hands.

Her family calls out from behind her, “Amity!” 

But she keeps running. Their voices drowned out of her ears and onto the grass beneath her. Instead being infected with the tapping of her steps. 

Amity heads towards the woods. It’s the first thing she sees, and her feet naturally follow. The anger rushes into her head and the tears fall. There’s a strangely satisfying rush of adrenaline in her chest, though her head hangs heavy. 

The anger is… satisfying… to say the least. It’s sweet and rosy, like the lip tints that mother wore during the day. It feels awful yet wonderful at the same time. 

It is a pleasure to burn in anger. It’s warm and it’s powerful, illuminating itself to all of the world. It feels so wonderful in a beautifully twisted way. The burning wax of her emotions reminds her of mother. Burning and untouchable. 

She felt like the thorns of a rose. Bleeding when you reached out to the gentle flower. It’s beautiful red petals mocking you for your foolishness. The vines tangled in your chest and clogged your lungs. Forcing you to grow even bigger, allowing you to destroy all that she touched. 

All Amity knows is that it feels better than being afraid. 

The clouds roar in anger much like the feeling in her heart. It’s going to rain. It’s going to rain and burn everything it touched. Just like she would. 

The thunder claps again, making her breath hitch slightly. She can still feel the loose threads softly prickling at her palms. Another reminder of her loses. Looking ahead she sees a greet willow tree. Small and fragile, but would grow to be great. 

And she cries even hearder. 

‘I’m sorry Ame’ 

A scream erupts from her throat. It echoes in the halls and hits the leaves. The waves of anger seemed to leave with it. 

As soon as the hot anger drifted away it was replaced by a piercing coldness. Like her body had sunk into a frozen lake. The frostbite of the sensation nipped at her skin until it was bare and numb. Eating at her heart and pulling at her veins. Letting the caged snarls and screams evaporated into small sobs. 

Amity Blight doesn’t cry, but today, she does. 

She doesn’t feel angry anymore. She doesn’t feel like running. 

Amity allows herself to fall beneath the Willow tree. Letting the tears do the same. Amity… Amity doesn’t understand. She… she wanted to understand. 

Why was everything happening the way it was? What had she done wrong? 

She didn’t know. She hated not knowing. She hated everything. 

She hated everything. 

Clutching onto the broken plush in her hand, she couldn’t stop the sobs that came from her lips. No one was here to see her, no one would know of her weakness. 

The thunder clashes against the clouds again. A whimper makes it out of the sea of sniffles and sobs. It was going to rain, and she would burn. Boiling droplets would scrotch her skin and hair. 

Maybe… maybe it would take the green away from it. 

“Are you alright?” 

The gentle tapping of rain could be heard, but she could feel none on herself. Looking up she saw a woman holding out an enchanted umbrella. Who had the reddest hair she’d ever seen. But unlike the euphoric anger she had felt before, it was warm. Like the quilt papa would drape her in when she fell asleep on the couch. It reminded her of the fire, but not a hazardous bonfire. More like a fireplace on a cold winter’s night. 

Yet her eyes were blue. Or, eye to be precise. The other one was grey. Both carrying all the storms of the sea. All the secrets of life and their subsequent failings made home on her teal irises. One would expect the two colours to clash with each other, but Amity didn’t think so. They fit nicely among the ashes of her pale skin and red hair. 

Her eyes are kind, despite her curly hair being wild and untamed. Her velvet cloak hung nicely at her shoulders. Her sweater and skirt had not a single loose thread hanging from their cuffs. She was quite literally perfect. 

Amity doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone so beautiful. 

But where had she seen her before?

“The rain’s going to get worse and I don’t think you’ll make it home in time. My house is not too far from here. Would you like to stay?” 

Her voice alone is enough to warm all of her small being. The sweetness from it sunk into her tongue. Tasting like warm tea and chocolate, with just a spoonful too much sugar. 

Amity’s throat twists on itself, not being able to form any words. Father had told her not to trust strangers. Especially when you were a Blight. They could take you for their own greedy intentions. Among the many things her parents had taught her, it was that people are evil. 

But… her eyes were so kind. So warm and like the sapphires in father’s paintings. Like the buttons on Otabin. Or the curtains on Edric’s bedroom. 

She quickly makes up her mind and holds the woman’s hand. Her skin is just as soft as it looked. Like it was hand woven silks imported straight from The Belly. And judging from the sleeves of her shirt, she probably wasn’t far off. 

Tucking Otabin under her other arm, her knees bent back. Feet planting onto the ground, she dragged them to the same direction the woman did. Her grip is gentle despite her sharp nails. Which are painted in a glossy black, yet they did not hold the same menacing aura one would expect. 

Amity’s almost certain she’s seen her before. 

But where?

The woman held the umbrella over their heads, which looked like a staff extension. The bird inside the roof of it was a dead give away. 

They made no effort to make conversation, instead rushing towards a small cottage with the most brilliant flowers she’d ever seen. All brimming full of colour and life. 

She must have been a potioneer, or in the plant track. No one would have such exotic plants if she wasn’t. Sneaking a glance up her sleeve, she saw the potions seal on her arm.

But… it wasn’t an actual seal. 

“Come on now. Hurry along,” she said distantly. 

Amity, who was eager to get out of the boiling rain, stepped into the threshold in front of her.

A small gasp came out as she got a full view of the inside of her home. Little trinkets and books were sprawled around the countertops. Jars and cauldrons stacked away neatly on shelves and books too. 

Papers were messily thrown near the fireplace and so were a small set of wax seals and parchment. The kitchen was filled with jars of spices and bags of flour. Aprons were carefully hung on the door and Amity has never seen a place so homey before. 

A voice called from behind her, “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll make you some tea and I’ll take you home after the rain stops.”

Amity propped herself on the coach and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Fidgeting at the loose threads of her friend. Once again reminding herself that he was broken. 

Just like she was. 

“What do we have here?” she said softly, setting down a mug in front of her. 

The petite girl protectively clutched over him, trying to stray him away from her reach. The older woman made no attempt to reach out and grab it like she expected. Instead, she pulled open a drawer full of threads and needles. Buttons were colour coded and placed neatly in plastic bags. Bits of fabric and lace also were folded somewhat neatly in the corner of said drawer. 

Even then she did not make any move to take it from her. 

Offering her a hand, she gave her the softest smile she had ever seen. 

“May I?” 

She ignores the bubbly feeling in her chest. Forcing her hands to move, she slowly gave them to her. If not with a slight bit of hesitance. The lady made no attempt to rush or scold her. 

Strange…

“My siblings broke him,” she told her. Hoping that the woman didn’t think she was reckless herself. 

The woman hummed, “I wouldn’t say he’s broken. Damaged? Yes. Tattered up? Certainly, but not broken. Broken would mean that it is beyond repair. And something I’ve learned over the years is that nothing is ever quite broken.” 

She grabs a threaded needle and begins to wove the two pieces back together. Amity stared at the woman, trying to distract her from those words. 

Though her techniques were messy, they were enough to patch up her friend. The little girl marvelled at the little threads that stuck out on Otabin’s abdomen. Slowly, he was getting fixed 

“How did this happen?” she asks her, interrupting her from her train of thought. 

Amity frowns at the memory, senses immediately filling with disgust. The anger arose again, making her ears burn red. Images of her family filled her mind. All black silhouettes with evil grins plastered on their faces. 

She hated them. 

A cold hand makes contact with her shoulders, causing her to look up. The woman before her carried worried eyes. They were sad too. So very sad. 

Amity doesn’t know why it bothers her so much. 

_Don’t be sad. You should be smiling. You should be happy. You look pretty when you’re happy._

Amity pushes these thoughts away, replacing them with new ones. 

“Ed and Em are being mean. Ever since mother and father split they think they can do whatever they want now that mother’s out of the house! And… and Papa never does anything about it.”

She doesn’t mean to call him that, it sort of just slipped out. 

“You seem to be frustrated with your father.”

“I am. He’s the reason mother left. And why she’s mad at me…” she trailed. 

Amity can’t cry. She refuses to cry. There is someone there. It was embarrassing enough being caught once, but to be seen crying twice and with the same person? It was humiliating. 

“Why is your mother upset with you?” the woman inquired, taking a new threaded needle. This time one with a red string. 

Blights don’t share, they don’t show vulnerability. Vulnerability is weakness and Amity refused to be any more weaker than she was today. 

But… but why couldn’t she stop talking? Why couldn’t she stop feeling?

Amity inhaled deeply, “I’m the reason they split up.” 

The woman slammed her hands down the counter suddenly, making her jump in surprise. Her breath hitched just a bit, but she did not have time to spiral. The other woman grabbed hold of her shoulders gently, her eyes filled with rage. 

Amity knows what comes next. 

“Listen to me child,” she ordered sternly, though there was a hint of affection in her broken voice. 

Amity is prepared for what is to come.

“You will never be the reason they split up, do you understand?” 

...What?

“No matter what your parents tell you, this is not your fault. You are a child, and they are adults. They should be responsible for their own relationships, not you.” 

Amity… Amity doesn’t understand. 

“So promise me you will never blame yourself for it, okay?” 

She tries not to cry.

“Oh-okay…” 

“Good.” 

She offered her another gentle squeeze and seemed to be deep in thought. Staring at her with analytical eyes, though not nearly as deadly as mother’s. She seemed to be struggling with something, almost like she was trying to put two and two together. The woman went back to the mended plush. And all Amity does is sit there like an idiot as she processes the woman’s words. 

It wasn’t her fault? But… but mother said-

_“This isn’t your fault Amity. Your mother and I are responsible for our own actions. You must understand this.”_

_“It’s not your fault Mittens. If anything, it’s my fault for not sneaking in better.”_

_“Mittens, it’s okay. The voices can’t hurt you. I’m here and I know It isn’t your fault.”_

But… but mother had said…

Amity didn’t understand. 

She wants to break something. She wants to scream and destroy everything. The little dice at the corner of her eye emitted a great light, and the only thing in her mind is destroying it. Anything that contained the slightest bit of light, was to be obliterated. 

Amity hated not understanding. 

“There we are. All patched up,” she announced happily, “And now he’s even more loved.”

Eyes following her teal ones, they slowly trail down to her hands. She swore her hands were made of plush, just like the toy in her arms. Dilated eyes nearly teared up to see her friend back together and fixed. 

The anger melts away when she sees the small heart embroidered onto the side of his chest. A small blue bow tie hung around his neck too, making him look as dashing as ever. The little crystal and lace that surrounded it made him look handsome. 

The stitches on his belly didn’t phase her at all. In fact, she thought they looked quite charming.

“You fixed him!” she cried happily, hugging him close. 

The familiar sensation of fabric and cotton brought her heart at ease. The warmth spreading from her palms to all over her body. A bittersweet taste filled her tongue and tugged at her heart. The scents of herbs had faded over the months, but were definitely still there. Her breathing slowed as she took in the smells of weeds and dried flowers. 

Lord, she missed Willow. 

The homeowner whispered softly, “Can’t be…” before shaking her head. The blush on her face looked terribly hilarious on her pale face. 

“What is your name?” 

She thinks for a moment, if the woman wanted to hurt her she could certainly strike now. She’s vulnerable and defenseless. Not to mention she’d make for great blackmail and bribery. Father would pay much for her return. 

Yet… she had not done any of those things. 

There was something strange about the woman. Oddly familiar though she knows she’s never seen her before. And… and there’s something so oddly comforting about her. Amity doesn’t trust people, and it’s not like she does trust her either. 

But there’s something about her eyes that nip at the walls she’s built. When she tried to build them back after her meltdown, she seemed to knock the rubble out of her hands. Telling her to look up and beyond the walls she had built. 

It’s oddly frustrating, yet… nice too. 

Titan, she was emotional today. 

Before she can stop herself however, her mouth moves on her own, “Amity. My name is Amity.” 

All regrets wash away when she sees her smile. It was soothing, like the toy in her arms. There are many things the woman seemed to have in common with her friend. They both had blue eyes and soft hands. Both carefully built from head to toe, offering comfort in the strangest of places.

“Nice to meet you Amity. I’m Lilith. I’m a teacher at Hexside,” she introduces herself. 

Lilith… Lilith... Lily… lilies- oh! 

That’s where she’d seen her! The painting on father’s office. The one where she’s dressed in white and covered in white lilies. Father’s favourite flower! She knew that because he ordered them to be planted all over the garden. 

"You're the Woman Made of Paint!" Amity cried in realization. 

Lilith stared stunned at the girl before her. Sheepishly looking away, she stared at her ceiling. Trying to stray away from her previous thoughts. 

"Well I can assure you that I'm not made of paint." 

Amity shook her head, “I meant you're the woman in our paintings! Papa paints you all the time!” 

Lilith’s heartbeat raced a little, only one person had ever painted her. He shared the very eyes the girl before her held. But she pushes the foolish thoughts away. The foolish, _hopeful_ thoughts. 

Lilith knew full well she did not deserve to hope. 

“Is… is that so?” her voice twisted uncomfortably. 

The girl did not seem to pick up on her social cues. Continuing to blabber all sorts of things. Making no note of her sudden shift in position. 

“Yeah! My favourite is the one where you’re reading under a tree. The one in the lily garden is pretty too. And I alwa-”

She cuts herself midway, eyes widening in realization. The horror of what she had done catching up to her. Lilith furrowed her eyes in confusion, but refrained from saying anything else. Amity stood up straighter and cleared her throat. Digging her nails into the newly sewn bowtie on her friend. 

“Excuse my nature, I did not mean to startle you.” 

“It’s… it’s quite alright. No need to worry.” 

Amity then dug her face into the top of Otabin, letting her legs sprawl out on the coach. The silence that filled them was… unsettling. The iridescent glow of the dice before them was the only thing to fill it. Amity could not help but scold herself for her ignorance. To let a complete stranger see her at her lowest point. 

She should have ran to her room, and not into the woods on a rainy day. 

Shifting her eyes, they made their way onto her many walls. None of them seemed to be covered in pictures at all. Back in the manor, they had halls lined with multiple portraits of their ancestors, dating back to the 11th century. All of them with degrading and soulless eyes. 

The portrait hall terrified her. 

The manor’s walls are filled with many things. Weapons, bones (don’t ask), diagrams, maps, certificates, plaques, trophies, portraits, paintings, you name it!

But this woman… this woman had a sword on her wall. 

The handle is ornate, unlike the rest of her house. The gold decor hugged all sides of the hilt and cross guard. A gem placed neatly at the rain guard. The pommel was also decorated in a similar gem, yet the blade remained simple. Probably for usefulness. 

However, the LeClaire family crest was most prominently engraved on one side of the blade. Right atop of the deep fuller. 

“Why do you have a LeClaire family heirloom?”

Lilith turned the same direction Amity had, spotting her sword. The sight of the blue and golden weapon brought a smile to her lips. The sword had brought many happy memories over the years, and had helped her chase the bad ones away too. 

It was also the only thing she ever stole. 

“My sister and I stole it from our grandmother because she kept harassing me about my hair,” she replied proudly.

“...What?”

Lilith realized what she had said and blushed madly. Of course she didn’t know what that meant. 

“I- uh it’s okay really!” she assured, frantically waving her hands in the air. “She had a lot more and honestly mother was proud of it so it wasn’t like there were any hard feelings. Also it was mostly Edalyn’s idea and really it’s on my grandmother for being so insistent I dye my hair white or at least blond. Some sort of rich people thinking I don’t understand-” staring down she saw that she was only frightening the girl more.

“I’m going to stop talking now.” she promised. 

The girl held her silence, but it did not last very long. She seemed to be eager to fill the suffocating void of no noise. Like she could not bear it. As if they stopped talking, then new ones would arise in her head. 

She asked her more questions, mumbling as she did. “You’re a swordswoman?”

Lilith nodded, “Something like that.”

“And you’re also a LeClaire?”

Amity had never seen her at any of the countless parties mother had hosted. The family was a regular guest at their household. Often bringing lavish gifts. Grandfather did not like them much however, though he never really specified why. No one ever really explained anything to her. 

She’s also never seen in the family have red hair, or so she thinks. The LeClaires all seemed to be prone to having white or blonde hair. Dying it if it had anything other than the two colours. 

Sort of like the Farechilds. 

“Er- not exactly. It was my mother’s maiden name. The two didn’t exactly get along.” there’s a smile on her lips again, and she sees why father wanted to paint it. 

But then it falters, and her eyes look sad again. Amity wants it to come back. To bring back the beautiful smile on her lips. They shouldn’t be frowning. _She_ shouldn’t be frowning. 

Another wave of thunder crashing loudly, echoing through the halls. A whimper makes it past Amity’s mouth. Lilith’s heart nearly breaks at the sight. 

“Would you like to hold it?” she asks, hoping to take their mind off things. 

The little girl nods her green head, still clutching onto her stuffed animal. Her ears are still drooping down, but Lilith is determined to fix that. 

Taking the weapon in her hands, she makes her way back to the coach. Amity still stared at the windows, twitching and scanning everything. Lilith lightly clutched her shoulder, careful not to dig her nails too harshly. The pinch of a sensation seemed to snap her out of her state. Her golden eyes stared at the sword from up close. They sparkled in amazement. 

She wrapped her hands around the hilt, immediately it fell to the ground. The weight of it proved difficult to lift from the ground. Lilith lay her hand around hers, helping her lift it. 

Her hands are gentle, but firm. They grip carefully and gesture for her to stand up. Amity does as she’s silently told, planting her feet onto the ground. 

“Everything begins with your stance. Right foot forward and left to the side. Now bend them both to 90 degrees. It’s okay if you can’t lift it with one hand. Just use both for now.” 

Amity nodded, setting Otabin carefully to the side. She did as she was told, and lifted it with both hands. 

The woman had made it look so easy. Yet she couldn’t even lift it on her own. 

Lilith pushed her leg a tad bit to the right, separating the two even farther than she had stood. An encouraging smile made it up to her lips, making Amity’s nerves vanish just a bit. Though her shoulders couldn’t really relax. 

“Look at you! You’re a natural.”

Her heart swells at her words. 

“Try swinging it to the side, and then back to center.” 

Amity does as such, though it’s a little slow at first. Her muscles ache due to its weight. Luckily, the lady of paint grips her shoulder and hand, helping her swing it back and forth. Words such as “Good work Ms. Amity” and “Wonderful technique” were passed down often. At one point, she even lets go. And Amity is able to swing it efficiently. Lilith claps delightedly and Amity can feel her ego rising. 

The rain slows and Amity can see the sun sinking back through the clouds. No longer did the constant thumping of water ring loudly in their ears. Humid grass smells sour and salty. The woman dressed in a violet cloak and blue cardigan smiles at her like she’s the best thing in the world. Her presence tastes like sticky sweet ash and she couldn’t get the taste off her tongue.

Amity… Amity doesn’t understand. 

But maybe that was okay. 

\--x--

Amity enters the manor, trying to make as little noise as possible. Her newly fixed Otabin lay carefully between her fingers. The bell of the door gives her away however, and Edric comes running down the stairs. 

“MITTENS!” he yells in relief.

Wait? Relief?

“Thank goodness you’re okay!” 

He flung his arms around her, clutching her close. Amity is too confused to respond, but he proceeds to cup her face. Tilting her head in all different directions, checking for any scratches or burns. 

“Are you hurt? Did the rain burn you?” 

“Quit it Ed! I’m fine!” 

But Edric doesn’t let go, he then moves his head to check her shoulders and her arms. That’s when he spots the newly patched up stuffie in her arms. The bewilderment in his eyes are apparent.

His voice stutters, “How did you fix him?” 

“I met the Lady of Paint! She fixed him up,” she explains. Her excited state shocked the male Blight. “She lives in the woods and taught me how to hold a sword!” she excitedly beamed. 

Edric stared at his little sister, getting more and more confused. Yet he couldn’t help but let the smile form on his lips. His sister rarely got excited these days, it seemed that she was too distracted by her escapade to be mad at him. 

“Wait really? She’s real?”

She nodded her head, bouncing up and down on the spot, “Yeah! She’s a teacher at Hexside. Have you seen her?” 

Edric shook his head, “I don’t think so-”

“Amity,” a voice calls from behind. 

Father. 

His little sister shivers, making herself as small as possible. The toy in her hands is squeezed even harder. The bowtie nearly coming undone in the process. 

Amity knows what happens next. 

“Thank titan you’re alright.”

...What?

He hastily makes his way towards her, Edric getting out of his way the closer he came. Similar to how her brother had reacted, her father cups her face. His hands are warm, which was unlike him. 

Amity didn’t understand. 

“What were you thinking? You could have gotten hurt!” he said, the worry dripping from his voice. Similar to how the warmth leaked from Lilith’s. 

He scanned her petite body for any signs of damage, “Are you hurt? Where in Titan’s name did you go? I looked everywhere for you!” 

“I… I… I’m sorry,” she stuttered out.

Alador sighed, grasping her shoulders lightly. He tilted her chin to look up at him. The shame in her eyes didn’t belong there. 

“It’s alright dear,”

“I didn’t mean it Papa. I didn’t. I’m sorry!” she cried, the tears bursting from her eyes. Alador is pretty certain his heart had broken into two. 

“It’s alright, my flower.”

Amity flings her hands around her father, abandoning Otabin on the floor. Edric is quick to pick it up, making sure the dust did not cling into it. The tears do not stop, and the sobs only grow louder. 

His body tenses but he reminds himself to bring his hands around her fragile form. One of them rested on her head, caressing the green locks. Amity shivers and shakes under him, crying and begging for forgiveness. Edric lays a gentle hand on her back, telling her words of reassurance that should have come from him. 

Emira sees her sister’s familiar green hair and sprints to them. No words are spoken, instead she goes up and hugs her sister. Amity turns to her and begs for forgiveness to her as well. Though none form actual words. Just unlady-like sobbing and gibberish. 

The girl’s crying is infectious and soon Emira joins her cry fest. She too begs to be forgiven and clings onto her little sister. Edric is quick to make his way over and hug them both. Assuring them that everything would be fine. 

Alador stares at his son and how quickly he handled the situation. So mature yet young at once. The familiar tugging of guilt stings his chest and throat. The sour bitterness never leaves his tongue. 

_Do something_ ! His mind scolds. _Do something! Comfort them, anything! Just do something!_

And he does. 

Alador makes his way towards his children and hugs them. They all seize their sobbing and stare at the man. Edric cut his words short to stare at his parent. The fear in his eyes are bothersome, but Alador does not allow himself to feel pity now. Right now, he must be a parent. He could wallow of his failure some other time. 

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he assured them. 

Amity chokes and lets out another sob, “I’m sorry Papa. I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s alright my flower. It’s alright.”

Emira begins to cry too, “we’re sorry Papa.” 

They call him Papa again, and it’s painful in such a beautiful way. It stings and clutches his chest. He does not mind in the slightest that it has taken his heart captive. Their cries may be contagious after all, for he can feel the tears catching up to him too. 

The dam breaks when a single tear falls from Edric’s face.

“I didn’t mean to disappoint you, Papa.”

His heart drops. 

“No!” he cried, which startled them. 

“Never,” he began, “Never in the nine isles will you ever disappoint me.” 

They stared at him, all with golden eyes _he_ had given them. They sparkled from the tears, and perhaps due to the angle of the sunlight. 

“I have not the best parent, and I have made mis- I have… many regrets,” 

He nearly loses his daughter and he _still_ can’t admit he’s made mistakes. 

Damn his pride. 

“But I am working to be better, please allow me to do better. And… I’m… I- I _apologize_ for my actions before.”

He cannot say the word sorry, his ego does not allow it. Even when he has the world’s most promising witches in his arms. Even when his children cling onto him and cry.

Titan he’s pathetic. 

But it is enough. It is still an apology and it’s enough for now. He would eventually say them, and it would be soon. Not today, but soon.

That is a promise.

“I’m sorry too Papa.” Edric replies, and it’s what causes Alador to lose it as well. 

Salty tears make way to his eyes, stinging his tired dark circles.

His children do not forgive him, he knows because they do not utter the words of forgiveness. Much like Emira hadn’t at the night at the ship. And that’s alright. One day, they would. Until then, he’d work hard to earn it back. 

For now, he holds them, and they all cry. The Blight name is heavy to carry, but his children had done the task wonderfully. They deserved a little break. 

And with Odalia’s eyes out of the house, they were free to show weakness here. No one would know of the night the Blights had finally broke down. No one would know what happened beyond these walls of brick and wood. 

For now, his children cling onto his cardigan, and he does not mind that they are stained with tears and snot. He cuddles Amity and cradles his twins. They heave for air and the maids do not judge. His tearful glare is enough to silence them anyway. 

Four pairs of yellow ears are puffy and red by the end of the night. And all have cried for the first time in many years.

But no one would know. No one must know. 

They are still Blights after all. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Principal Bump deserves a husband for all the shit he goes through.


	5. The Head and the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith lets them into her fragile heart of glass, because she is a stupid, stupid woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilith needs therapy. Actually, they all need therapy. 
> 
> \--x--
> 
> Alador: do not talk to strangers
> 
> Amity: okay.
> 
> Also Amity: the lady I met in the woods is now obligated to teach me the art of the Blade™
> 
> Lilith: I never agreed to this-
> 
> CLAWTHORNE PARENTS BELONG TO VANILLATEA360. IF U ASK ME ABOUT THEM I WILL SEND U STRAIGHT TO BEA.

“Come on!” Amity said, tugging at her brother’s arm. 

“Okay, okay, hold on.” 

Edric followed his little sister deeper and deeper into the woods. The smell of pine and oak invaded his senses. Almost reminding him of their father’s paints. The scent never quite left him, which Edric liked for a strange reason. He had grown fond of the smell of paint and ink, it became soothing for his nerves. 

And it reminded him of Papa.

“Are you sure it’s this way?”

“I'm almost certain. She lives near the willow tree! And she looks exactly like how father painted her. Well, one of her eyes is actually grey.” 

Edric’s eyes widened in interest, “Really? Two eye colours?” 

“It’s called heterochromia Ed.”

“Hetero-what now?”

“Nevermind.”

They went deeper and deeper into the thick woods, passing many birds and plants on their way. Edric wished to draw some of them. Yet Amity did not show any signs of stopping anytime soon. Everytime something caught his attention, she’d pull him further and further into the woods. 

“Can we please take a break Mittens?”

“But we’re nearly there!”

“Please,” he begged, drawing out the ‘e’ for as long as he could. 

Amity reluctantly gave in, releasing his sleeve with a huff. “Fine.”

Edric smiled contently as he sank into the earth below. Happily propping his body onto the grass. A small thud erupted, but he was too tired to notice. The cold grass felt nice against his hot skin. 

  
  


From the corner of his eye, he saw a vast hue of pink and white through the vast green that surrounded them. A patch of soft petals caught his attention, making him roll over to his side. The creamy white and pink petals gently offered themselves to the boy’s touch. Making him stretch out his pale hands to caress them. They are like silk, soft and pale in colour. Yet just as decorative as any lace textile. 

“They have little freckles!” he stated eagerly. 

The yellow and orange freckles danced at the center of the flowers. Some blushing in a tint of pink and yellow. Edric thought of the lily painting on father’s walls. The one with the woman with red hair and white dress. 

Papa did always love lilies. 

Amity peered at him, only to smile as well. Her grin reached her eyes. Letting the gold in them sparkle even more. Edric liked it when Amity smiled, it had become a rarity in the house. So he savoured it while he could. 

“Do you think she’d like them?” 

“Who?”

“The Lady of Paint.” 

“Yeah! We should get some for her.” 

Edric sorted out the blooms from the budding ones. Plucking them carefully and healing their stems. As much as Edric adored these flowers, he always felt guilty for leaving them plucked. So he always made sure to release them by the roots, or at least heal the stems so they may grow again. 

He knows it's unbefitting of a man. He knows that as a boy he isn’t supposed to like flowers or woodland creatures. That pretty dresses and lace weren’t made for him. And that he shouldn’t dance to the soft melodies of violin and piano in the mushroom field. That it is weakness. And a man was not to show weakness. Especially a Blight.

But Edric has accepted the fact that he is weak. That he has always been weak, and he will forever stay that way. For his heart is twice the size of his head, and he isn’t quite sure how to fix that just yet. 

“Do you think she’d like the white or pink ones?” Amity asked as they separated the plants. 

Edric stared at his little sister, who had a small pink bud tucked between her ear. Her pink contrasting nicely with the flower. Edric felt a giant tug of envy pulling at his chest. 

He wanted one too...

Don’t get him wrong, Edric is perfectly happy being a boy. He just… wishes they were allowed to do what his sisters were allowed to do. 

“How about both? We can even make flower crowns!”

Mother would not approve of flower crowns…

But mother wasn’t here.

“How do we do that?” she asked curiously, propping herself next to him. 

The male Blight smiled, plucking nearby dandelions and vines. He took the lilies from his sister’s hands and began to fold them against each other. Careful not to bend the stems too harshly. 

Amity stared at her brother’s handiwork in awe, seeing the way he carefully weaved them together. Her brother is not a quiet one, quite often running his mouth over unimportant things. Yet it was strange to see him so focused, he always seemed so uncaring of the world around him. 

He happily propped his creation onto her head, “Queen of the Woods!” He announced. 

It looked like the one in their father’s painting. He allowed himself to feel pride for this.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked innocently, marvelling at the beautiful crown on her head. The full blooms sat nicely on her green hair. 

Edric’s face lit up a great shade of red, making him pause the one he was working on for himself. 

He thinks of the day he met him. When he was caught in dancing in the mushroom fields. How he had chestnut brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. And how he was weak too. How he could talk about their liking towards flowers and animals of all kinds. Though he claims that his friend Viney loves them more. 

And how he wore sweater vests and laced dress shirts. Edric remembers the envy that he felt upon seeing him wear it. 

He also remembers really liking him.

He had taught him how to make flower crowns, and how to catch frogs and fireflies. Even teaching him how to sing to blue bells and dance with the toadstools. 

Should… should he tell her about the boy in the woods? 

No. No Amity wouldn’t understand. If he didn’t tell Emira then it wasn’t fair that he told her either. The boy in the woods would be his little secret. 

He’d make sure to keep Jerbo where no one could reach him. 

“You know, around.” he lied through his lips.

Amity hummed, seeming to be satisfied with her answer. Too enthralled by the flower crown on her head to care. Edric sighed in relief, going back to making two more of his creations. 

“What’s she like?” Edric asked her, hoping to stray her thoughts from reaching him. 

“She’s really pretty, and nice too. She’s also a part of the LeClair family.”

Edric knotted the last of the second flower crown, “LeClair? As in related to Lady LeClair?”

“Yeah I was surprised too. She’s just so… nice compared to her.” 

“Are you still offended about the hair dye?”

“Oh absolutely.” 

They continued to make their flower crowns and Edric explained to her the different types of lilies and what they meant. Going on and on about something regarding the titans and what not. Amity didn’t catch onto most of it. But it was very interesting to say the least. 

“Mostly, lilies represent purity and devotion. Often being associated with motherhood and innocence.”

Amity doesn’t know why she latches onto the motherhood bit. But she does not allow herself to dwell on these thoughts for too long.

“But it also symbolizes rebirth and grief. Back in the 17th century, witches thought that the whiteness symbolized peace and serenity.”

He finally finishes the last one, propping it on his head and grabbing the last one. He gets up and offers a hand to his sister, who took his hand happily. 

“It’s also a common flower to give at weddings.”

“Okay, now let's go!” Amity groaned, clearly growing more and more impatient. 

“Okay okay jeez.” 

Amity’s impatience to get there startled him. She was rarely ever motivated for anything that wasn’t academic related. He wondered what about the woman had caught his sister’s attention. 

Her speed went just a bit faster, which he took as a sign that they had gotten closer. The clearing in the trees was more proof that he was correct. 

A heavy grunt captures his attention. 

A woman dressed in blue and yellow stood before them, a gilded sword in hand. Her grip was strong as she turned and swung it up and down. Blank silhouettes followed closely behind her, all disintegrating as they made contact with her blade. 

She’s quick and fast on her feet, gracefully gliding through each and every one of the blue tinted holograms. Her hair and skirt surprisingly did not get in the way of her movements. Instead moving gracefully with the winds. Her entire form looked animated. The fluid motions moving too quickly for his eyes to memorize. The clanking of the swords hitting the floor did not faze him at all. 

The sun reflects nicely on her red hair, especially with the shade of her skin. She’s fairly tall with a nicely sculpted figure. Reminding him of a sort of doll. One that was not meant to be touched. Simply admired from the glass case it stood in. And though he’s seen her many times before in his father’s paintings, it was another thing entirely to see it in real life. 

She was quite literally, perfect. 

“Woah…” he couldn’t help but muster out. 

He looked down to tell his sister of his inquiries. But saw that Mittens was no longer standing beside him, but rather approaching her. Panic immediately rose in his chest as he yelled after his little sister. 

The woman swung her sword one last time before looking back. A scream erupted from the lady of paint when she turned to see Mittens standing behind her. The silhouettes of knights vanished immediately and she fell back into the grass. Edric ran towards the two females. 

“Child did no one ever tell you not to approach an armed woman?” she scolded softly, which took him aback. 

The woman’s voice was kind, despite her stern words. They showed more worry than anger. Like she was more concerned over whether Mittens was okay rather than the fact that she had interrupted the training session. 

That… was sort of odd.

“I’m sorry, I just…” Amity trailed.

The lady of paint sighed, “It’s alright dear,” she assured. Instead laying her head back onto the grass in exhaustion. “Just be more careful next time.” 

She… she wasn’t mad? 

That confused Edric.

“What are you doing here anyway?”

“I wanted to see you again!” she beamed happily. 

The lady of paint smiled faintly, shaking her head softly. Everything about her screamed ‘gentle’ to him and he didn’t quite understand. But… he could see why Amity took such a liking to her. 

Now that he had gotten closer, he could see what Amity was talking about. Her uh...what was it? Hetero-chromosome or something. 

He actually quite liked the combination of teal and grey. Though the red of her hair was most awe striking of all. It looked like a dancing fire, though he trusted it would not burn him. 

“You’re the Lady of Paint!” he replied happily. 

The woman stared at him in confusion, blinking rapidly. 

“I- what is it with you children and thinking I’m made of paint?” 

Edric shook his head with joy, the flowers on his head blocking his eyes a bit. He accidentally lets a giggle slip as he pushes them back. He misses the woman’s struggling eyes.

His eyes. 

They both have _his_ eyes. 

“You’re the woman in our father’s paintings. We call you the Lady of Paint.” he beamed, before realizing something and clearing his throat. Eyes darting away in embarrassment.

The woman shifted awkwardly on the ground, fixating her eyes elsewhere. The swords in the ground were either stabbed or laying onto the grass. The unease creeps up to her shoulders, nesting on her face and back. Her eyes scan around to find a new subject to ease the air, and to stray from her earlier thoughts. 

They have his eyes, that can’t be a coincidence.

No… no she can’t think like that. That was hoping, and Lilith Clawthorne did not deserve to hope. 

She didn’t deserve anything.

“That’s a lovely flower crown you two have,” she comments instead. 

The boy let out an uneasy smile, relaxing just the slightest. 

“I made one for you too! I tried to make it like the one in Papa- I mean father’s painting. I think the flowers may be a little off, but I think they’re pretty similar.”

“Oh… that’s very kind of you.” 

He ran over to her, eyes sparkling with pure innocent joy as he did. He eagerly draped it on her head, causing her to let out a small gasp. It was different compared to the one the children were wearing. More extravagant, but also more simple in colours. The green of the leaves were carefully tucked behind the blooms. 

The different lilies stuck out at the front, while they grew smaller in size the further back it travelled. Sort of like a tiara rather than a crown. It was clean and poised, it was difficult not to admire the handiwork. 

It was also like the ones _he_ had once made for her. Back when they were king and queen of the sea.

No… she cannot think like that. She did not deserve to think of him. 

“You’re really pretty,” the boy said suddenly, making her face go even redder than it was. 

“I-er thank- thank you…”

“You look exactly like the paintings. Well, except your eyes. In those you have two blue eyes.” 

“Oh-”

“And you look a little sad too. You usually look so happy-”

“Edric!” Amity scolded him, hitting the side of his arm. 

The boy looked at her in offense, “What?” 

“You don’t just say things like that!” 

“Why not?”

They began to bicker back and forth as Lilith silently reminded herself to actually get up. Instead of just awkwardly lying there. She props herself off of her elbows and gets off of the grass. Placing her sword back in her scabbard as her feet planted onto the ground. 

Did… did she seriously look _that_ sad?

“Forgive my brother, he says things he isn’t supposed to,” she snapped, glaring at the boy. He shot one right back. 

Lilith lets a small giggle go past her lips at the two. The boy had a head of green hair, dark emerald she assumed. Just like one of her many velvet cloaks. Though the greens are two vastly different shades, he had matching eyes with his sister. And she refuses to let herself think of the boy by the sea. 

He says that his name is Edric and that he likes her dress. He has graceful movements, like every motion was a dance to him. Swaying with the wind and rising in the air. 

He was quite charming too. 

“Why… why did you want to see me again?” she asks again. 

Amity beamed, “I want you to teach me how to use a sword.” 

Edric smiled at the idea, “Yeah! Could you teach me too?” 

“What?” 

Lilith took a double take, eyes widening in shock. Should… should she? Was it even okay to teach a 8 and 10 year old to use such a hefty weapon? Surely that would be immoral of her. Sure, she and Alador had been pretty young when they had begun training, but certainly not this young. 

Then her eyes then shrunk down in fear. 

She couldn’t. She’d only end up making it worse. Hell, knowing her she’d end up ruining them. And she couldn’t ruin someone else’s life. She couldn’t live with that again. 

“Absolutely not. It would be immoral of me to teach you at such a young age.” she said lightly. 

The children’s faces fell, the boy’s eyes darted towards his sister. Whose eyebrows knit together. She puffed her cheek in anger, and Lilith tried her best not to laugh from the sheer amount of adorableness. 

“Why not?” she whines.

“Like I said, it’s immoral of me to teach children such as yourselves to yield a weapon.”

“How old were you when you started to learn?”

...Well she was technically 7 in a half so that’s basically 8 right? 

Wait a minute… Amity is 8-

“Doesn’t matter,” she says, brushing off the boy’s question. “I will not be held responsible for teaching you such a skill.” 

“Please!”

“We’ll pay you!” they bribed. 

...Did a ten year old just offer to pay her?

“No. And that ends at that.” 

She tried to turn away and into the direction of her house, yet the two followed behind her. Continuing to make more empty bribes in order to get the lady of paint to give in. She holds her chin up high, hoping to blind herself from the children behind her. 

Eventually they make it into her house. 

She lets them in. Because she is a stupid, stupid woman.

They are strangely polite for children their age. With table manners even better than her. She could tell you about the three times Amity commented on her posture, but that probably wasn’t as interesting. 

They are also unfamiliar with oddly mundane things. 

Apparently they didn’t know refrigerators could have magnets on them… or that they were even separate from the wall. Or why people bought knock offs instead of the actual brands. Oh, and vacuum cleaners. They were unaware of their existence too.

Edric even referred to it as a “death snake” at one point. 

“Why does it sound like that?” he asked, clinging onto the chair in the kitchen. Frightened out of his life.

“Because that’s just how it’s made.”

“It sounds like a monster.” 

“Well you can’t just expect me to sweep the entire time.”

Amity pokes at the snout of the machine, more interested than scared. She held it up to her face, analyzing all of its parts. Lilith grabbed it out of her hands so as to not mess up her dress. 

“Well I mean, your house is pretty small. So it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle.” 

Should… should she feel offended by that?

Amity is more curious, letting all of the new found knowledge sink into her skin. Its quite adorable actually. 

“So you can just put these… little rubber things onto your fridge?” 

“Yes? What… what does your fridge look like?”

Edric shrugged, both marvelling over the colourful magnets, “They’re kinda attached to the wall. Mother says it takes up less space and looks more professional.” 

...Ooooooooh. They were _those_ kids.

That… that made a little more sense. 

They inquire at her house more, not nearly reeking havoc as usual children do. They are sure not to touch anything unless she tells them they can. They stand up straight and keep their voices low. Edric will glance every now and then to his sister, who will give him a small nod or a shake of a head if he says something he isn’t allowed to. 

Children should not look at each other the way they did. With fear lingered at their feet, stepping on their toes in an agonizing waltz. They deserved to be uncaring and foolish, not checking every exit of a room before entering. 

They did not deserve to grow up the way her friend did. 

“Please?” He tried again, sitting himself on the coach. 

“Didn’t work 2 hours ago, it’s not going to work now.” 

“Awww.” 

She sets down the plate of pastries for them, along with a cup of tea. Even if they were technically bugging her, she isn’t just going to shut the door on them. It’s incredibly rude, and they are still children after all. 

“You know, it’s sort of strange you two are so... _comfortable_ here. Do you do this often?” 

“Do what?”

“Harass strangers until they do what you want.”

The two laughed and shook their heads as they took a muffin in hand. Though he can see the way Edric takes a cookie along with it. 

“No. But we know you!”

“You do?”

“Like we said. You’re the lady of paint. You watched over us for a very long time.” 

Lilith nearly laughed at the girl. The sweet innocence that invaded her face. It made her joyful to know that the girl before her was happy. The tears were still fresh on her mind, and Lilith never wanted to see them again. 

Children did not deserve to be crying. They deserved to be loved, happy and cared for. Children deserved all the good things life had to offer. 

“You also fixed up Otabin. I- I never got to thank you for that,” she said, whispering the last part. Almost like she was embarrassed. 

“Well then,” she grins, “you’re very welcome.” 

There’s a selfish tug at Lilith’s soul. The warmth of their smiles invoked something in her heart. She’d seen them somewhere before. Somewhere deep in the depth of her heart…

She didn’t deserve to hope. 

She repeats her word. She is Lilith Clawthorne. She is the daughter of Alexander and Delavina Clawthorne, and the sister of Edalyn. She owns a small library at the center of Bonesborough and is working on getting a proper teaching degree. She lives alone in the woods like she deserves. And she hurt her sister beyond words can convey. 

She does not deserve to be selfish. 

“Did you make these?” Amity says between stuffed cheeks. Chocolate crumbs splattered across her chest, though she has a hand in front of her chest in attempts not to be rude. 

Lilith smiles, grabbing a napkin from the table. She carefully wiped her cheeks, never letting the grin fall from her face. There was something so endearing about children. Lilith could never explain why she adored them so much. It made her job as a teacher all the more enjoyable.

As soon as the cream was wiped off from her face, she noticed the awestruck eyes they both held. Both eyes starry, one even struggling to hold back tears. Edric moved his hands to grasp hers as she turned away from her. 

_Don’t cry,_ she scolded herself. _Don’t let her see you cry again. That’s pathetic. And you can’t be pathetic._

“Do you- uh… are you alright?” 

“She’s fine,” Edric told her, knowing that she could not answer it at the moment. 

Doubt grew on the woman’s eyes, but she did not pry. She knows not to touch the sensitive parts of their hearts.

She also doesn’t want them to stay. She knows that if she asks they will talk, and when they talk, her heart will love. And when it loves it will not stop. And she would end up ruining them just as she ruined her sister. 

Lilith could not love. She could not do that to someone again. 

“I just…” Amity trailed, trying to hide her stunned demeanor.

“You’re just really nice, which is a bit weird. A lot of people say being nice is a weakness.” 

“Edric!” 

“ _What_?!” he asked, exasperated. 

Lilith heart shrunk a bit. Poor children, she thought. To be taught that compassion was fault, and vulnerability was weakness. 

She tries not to think of him. Him. Him. Him. **Him**!

_Titan what are you doing to me?_ She groaned in frustration. 

She’d been doing so well to forget Alador, yet ever since the day at the festival it was like he plagued her every thought. And the fact that the two children looked like him did not help in the slightest. 

What in the isles has she gotten herself into?

“Don’t you children have somewhere to be?” she tried nudging them away.

“Not until tomorrow.” 

“And we like you better than the kids back home.” 

“Edric I swear to titan.” 

“Would you just let me talk, Mittens?”

Mittens? 

Where had she heard that before… she could have sworn she’d- oh… no. 

No, no no no no no no no. 

They’re the children from her dreams. The ones that had supposedly belonged to her and Alador...dear titan no. She can’t do this. She can’t do this again. 

“Lilith!” he cried, latching onto her left arm, cutting her out of her trance. “Tell her to stop being mean to me.”

“I’m not being mean to you stupid.” she said, grasping her right hand. Both beginning to bicker back and forth and they held onto her arms. 

Lilith can’t do this. She’s only going to make everything worse, she’s going to hurt them. She doesn’t deserve to feel the warmth of the smiles. She doesn’t deserve to have them stay. 

She needs them to let go. Because the longer they hold on, the more she’d want them to stay, and if they stayed…

She knows what will happen next. 

“If I agree to teach you two will you stop bickering?” 

_What?_

“Really?” they cried, joy flooding into their faces. 

What in the isles did she just say? Why would she say that? Dear lord she is stupid-

“Yes. I promise I’ll teach you both if you stop bickering.” 

She needs to stop talking. 

“We promise.” 

She needs to take it back. She needs to send them home and tell them not to come back. Her heart is beating loudly at her chest, and she can feel it growing warm. The familiar yet foreign sensation of pure joy was once again making nest at her heart. 

She needs them to go. She needs them to leave. She can’t have the joy in her heart settle. 

“Shall we get started then?” she asks, and it’s hard to miss the twinkle in their eyes. 

It’s too late. Lilith’s heart is bursting at their smiles. Hope comes crashing down harder than hail and Lilith tries her ever damn best not to burst into tears right then and there. A blanket of sunlight and sweet lemon drops wrap around her arms and she can’t escape. The flower crown on her head binds her to them with it’s loose roots. 

The hollowness is filling. And this time there’s nothing she can do about it. 

She can’t, she tells herself. She can’t do this to them. They didn’t deserve it. 

But they don’t let go of her. They’re pale hands cling onto her gently, while 2 pairs of golden eyes stare back at her with such trust and adoration. And she’s going to let them down. She’s going to disappoint them, and they’d end up hating her just like everyone else.

Then why can’t she stop?

“I think I might have some training swords in the attic. I’ll go get them and we’ll start training outside.”

“Okay!” 

“Thank you Ms. Lilith!” 

And she lets them into her heart, because she is a stupid, stupid woman. 

\--x--

Parenting, it seems, was a lot more difficult than it seemed. And Alador learns that the hard way. 

He does not wish to resort to the methods he was raised with, nor the ones his ex-wife had instilled. So he’s starting completely from scratch, and it’s far from easy. 

It isn’t like abominations, there isn’t a single formula with a definite answer. There is no one way to do it. You must be strict, but soft. You must be close, but also keep your distance. You must be encouraging, but also teach them right from wrong. You must listen but also teach them not to run their mouths. 

And Alador _doesn’t understand_. How could someone possibly do two completely different things at once? 

But he’s going to try titan dammit. Even if it kills him. 

But it doesn’t help that he’s failing miserably at it. Last week had been a marvelous example of that.

_“You are making a mistake.”_ he can hear his father say. 

He splashes his blade towards the faceless silhouette, trying to drown out his voice. Letting it fade into nothing as more made their way towards him. 

_“Disappointing.”_ his mother sneers, and he wonders how she’s related to grandmama. 

Another stab, swing and then fall back. He repeats these instructions to himself. Scanning the surroundings of the weapon room. The vast open space that was filled with shadow figures clinging onto their respective swords. 

_“If you go through with this, you are dragging our name through the mud.”_

He ducks as two figures try to attack him from his sides. Letting them sink into their light skin and fade into nothing but ash. He then calculates where the others are most likely to strike, which is his feet. So he makes sure to jump and go for their heads. 

He does not miss. Alador Blight does not miss.

And no, the time on the ship doesn’t count. 

_“You are weak, cousin. You have let the low lives get to you.”_

_“You’ve always been difficult, Alador. But to think you’d do this was unimaginable.”_

He swung his blade harshly, falling back as another blade missed him by an inch. He turns just about 180 degrees before he enacts his offense attack.

_“I HATE ALL OF YOU.”_

It is his daughter’s voice that hurts the most.

Sword Fighting used to be fun. Back when he still had her in his arms and they would battle on the pirate ship. Both at an equal advantage despite their different mentors. Back when he would pin her to the ground and declare himself victor, or when she would disarm him last minute. 

Back when he loved her, even if it was in the secrecy of his heart. 

He harshly parries another illusion figure, using just a sliver too much force than what was necessary. 

It does not matter. He isn’t training, he is simply letting off steam. He is frustrated, it was only okay that he made a few faults. 

No one was there to witness them anyway. 

He attacks the last standing figure, hearing the clank of the metal hitting the ground. Heavy breathes fill the silent room, but he does not allow himself to pant. Alador Blight does not pant. That would be admitting weakness. And he is not weak. No matter what his family tells him. 

He is not weak. 

“Father?” 

He turns to see his Emira standing by the door, completely star struck. Marvelling at the sword in his hand. The Blight crest is engraved onto the blade, just above the fuller. Displaying his lineage for any poor soul who would be unfortunate enough to find themselves at the end of it. And though the sword itself is a bit flashy for his tastes, Alador would not change it for the world. 

His daughter says nothing, not able to find her words. She wished to reach out, take hold of what lay before her. But she knew better than to do so. It was unbefitting of a girl. 

**Chapter 3: Reach Out.** _Children often feel threatened by authoritarian figures, so by being the one to reach out, it builds trust towards the two._

“Would you- uh… like to hold it?” he offered her. 

Emira nodded, slowly processing as she took a few steps forward. She approaches him with caution, like he is some sort of beast. As if she made a swift movement, he would eat her whole. 

Don’t think like that. He ordered himself. Now was not the time for self pity. He could do that some other time. 

Eventually, his daughter is next to him. Hand extended in front of his blade. He lets the ornate silver and green handle fall into his daughter’s hands. The weight made her drop it instantaneously to the ground. 

“It’s alright, let me help you.” 

He rested his arms around hers, lifting the sword with ease. Though his daughter’s hands shook beneath his. He made sure to be as gentle as possible, and not dig his nails into her fingers. 

“For now, use two hands. When you get better, you can practice with one.” 

His daughter nods at his instruction, gripping at the sword tightly. He stares down to see that her feet are too close together. So he starts with that. 

“Right foot forward, left to the side. Bend them to a 90 degree angle and lower your body.” 

Emira nods with determination, quickly falling into the position she was instructed to. It isn’t perfect, but it’s good enough. Alador pushes down on her shoulders lightly, making her go just a tad bit forward. 

“Now, we’ll try swinging it to the sides then back to center.”

He helps her swing to the left, then they move to the right. His daughter is awfully slow, even for a beginner. But he does not judge or make any snide remarks. He had read somewhere that encouragement was a better motivator than fear. 

He lets go and Emira is able to successfully swing it on her own. Not even dropping it as she continued. She held it shakingly in the center, but it was enough to impress him.

His daughter has much potential. 

“Your standing position could do work, your feet are still too close together,” he comments, seeing his daughter sulk slightly. 

**Chapter 5: Encouragement and Criticism** . _Though criticism is important for development and learning, it is also important to give encouragement. When doing so (both encouraging and “criticising”), give into detail. This way, your child can feel proud of themselves for even the little accomplishments. Motivating them to do better on their own. While also being able to learn from their minor mistakes. It is okay to be stern, but do not be mean. These two should not be mistaken for one another._

“But your skill is still impressive for a beginner,” he adds, trying to focus on detail as the book said. 

“Especially being able to hold onto it for so long. Even without my support you were able to execute the exercise accordingly.” 

Emira lets a small spark of pride into her eyes, letting her back stand straighter. She slowly let the sword down to the ground. Alador smiles at his daughter, feeling a great sense of pride. 

She has potential. 

“Would you like to learn?”

“Yes!”

It’s loud, and it echoes all around the halls, he shoots her a questioning look. But it disappears upon her reaction. His daughter doubles over in fear, scrunching her shoulders and clenching her hands into fists. 

“I-I mean...yes. I’m… I’m sorry for being loud. I didn't mean to,” she quickly shoots out, desperately looking away from him. 

He has failed. 

He has failed. Over and over again he fails. He reaches out and holds onto their hands and they always let go. Fearful of his touch, fearful that he is like their mother. Afraid of his glares and the way his eyes stare down at them. 

He has failed. 

The words are at the tip of his tongue, but trapped at his lips. They want to reach out and explain. Defend themselves yet also plea for forgiveness. 

He wants to hug her. Tell her it is alright. To give her the stars as he did the night before. To wrap her in a blanket of the night sky and promise her that the oceans would be tame, that they would sleep. Just for her. 

But he cannot. He cannot promise the violent oceans will be kind. Or that the stars will always be there. That the moon would be there when she was lost. He could not promise her the night when she had to face the sun. When the bitter monday would arrive and she is blinded by the blue in the clouds. 

He cannot lie to her, no matter how much he wishes too. 

He has failed. 

“It is alright. Just… be more mindful. Okay?” is all he can say. And he scolds himself.

Her eyes struggle, keeping her distance yet desperately wanting to reach out. Her hand ached at her side, twitching in anticipation. But they do not move. They are frozen there, much like the snow in her mother’s grey eyes. 

But father’s voice is kind, though his words are not. His voice is soft, and kind and everything Emira’s dreamed of. They are like the night sky of the pirate ship when he had given her the stars. When he had whispered about the Lovers and the Warden’s Rose. He does not sound like father, he sounds like papa. Back when he would tuck them into bed and sing of the ocean far away. His voice smelt of dry paint and sugar like the woman in his paintings.

So she takes a step forward, because she has missed her papa. 

Her hands do not move from her sides, they are frozen still. Frost bitten from all the icicles in the eyes of her guardians. 

But she trusts that her papa would heal them. That he would warm them until she could feel again. 

She trusts him. 

Emira Blight does not forgive. She does not hand out things like mercy the same way her brother did. Emira Blight remembers all who wronged her and she is careful to keep them at a distance. She is bitter and she will not apologize when the world has been so cruel to her. No matter how much she hated it, she is still Odalia Farechild’s daughter. And she had learned much from her.

But she is willing to trust again. She is willing to remember all that he has done and still trust her papa. 

“Being a swordswoman is no easy feat. It requires patience, precision and poise. And believe it or not, mercy. Are you willing to learn, and grow these qualities as you train?” 

Emira thinks. She is not as patient as father and not as poised as her brother. Amity has always been more precise and Emira doesn’t _like_ being merciful. She’s lacking, and the thought angers her. 

But she is willing to learn. She is willing to fight the world that has been so cruel to her, and she will grow out of being her mother’s daughter. Just because she had her face did not mean she had to be like her. Just because she had gotten her skin and hair did not mean she had to _be_ her.

_I am not part of a set._

_I am not my mother’s daughter._

_I am not my father’s heir._

_I am Emira Blight._

_I am just Emira Blight._

She repeats this. She repeats it over and over again until she has fooled herself that she does not belong to anything. Even when she knows she is bound to them by name, she will do what is necessary to fool herself. 

“Yes,” she promises, and it's something she prides herself in. 

She’s too busy to look at the twinkle in her father’s eyes.

“Then let’s begin.”

\--x--

It is sundown, and the lilies on her head are still intact. 

“Bye Ms. Lilith!” Edric chimes happily, holding onto the handle of his training sword. 

It’s tucked away nicely into a scabbard, with his initials nicely engraved just above the fuller. It is simple and nowhere near as ornate as hers, but it is his. And he is proud of it. 

Amity’s is quite similar, except she has tied a small pink ribbon onto her scabbard. It is simple and like the colour of the lilies on her head. The girl is smiling and Lilith doesn’t think she’s ever felt this proud in all her years of teaching. She too has written her own initials A.B onto it’s blade. Lilith does not think of him again. She does not. 

The petite girl places it’s sharp end carefully into soft scabbard. Peering at her through the flowers on her head. She turns to leave before stopping for a strange reason. Lilith nearly says something before the girl turns to give her a quick hug. Wrapping her small hands around her waist. 

Lilith feels warm. It is blossoming like little vines in her lungs and they would not stop growing. They fill her lungs and clog her throat and she can’t breathe. She’s so small. So fragile, so soft and innocent and it makes Lilith _afraid_. 

She should not have let them into her heart. She should not have set them up for failure.

“Thank you, Ms. Lilith.” 

She doesn’t get to say anything back. 

Amity runs, face flushing red as she makes her way to her brother. She holds onto his hand and drags him into the trees. Lilith feels cold again, and it’s sharp and leaves a lingering pain in its wake. She’s been cold before. She’s always been cold, but the pain is even worse now. The girl had given her warmth and taken it away all too soon. 

It hurts. It hurts and it’s all she can think about. When the small figures disappear into the woods all she can think of is the pain in her waist. The cold nipping at her skin and the absolute horror in her lungs. 

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe and it hurts. 

Lilith has felt pain before. She has felt the pain of heartbreak, of guilt, of betrayal and of magic. She has felt everything and so much more yet _why does it still hurt_?

She slams the door shut. 

Locks are turned rapidly as she sinks into the door behind her. She can’t breathe. The children had come and planted their seeds in her heart. They have come and touched all of her lonely house with light and it _burns_. It scorches her skin and no amount of pain was like the one she felt now. 

Her skin burns, but her chest is cold. And she is in pain. 

Lilith screams. 

She claws at her chest and her waist until blood spills onto her fingers. It’s still cold. It’s cold cold cold cold cold and it won’t go away. Her nails dig into the fabric of her white blouse and into her skin. The red stains the white cloth and it burns.

She’s still cold. 

Lilith Clawthorne cries for the boy in her poems. The children in her dreams and the family in her memories. She mourns for her mother with an unfaithful husband and her father who is lost. She cries for her sister she had ruined and she cries for the selfish tug at her soul. 

The lilies on her head fall and she does not pick them up. They lay there, turning into a blur of colours and sounds. The frostbite at her waist still aches, especially with the newfound scars. She feels as though she is falling as broken sobs fill her room and the pain swells. 

She lies on the floor as she sobs into nothing. Her palisman is screwed onto her staff, so he does not come to her like he usually does. It’s fine. She deserves this. She deserves the burning of her fingers and the ache at her waist. 

She deserves the pain. 

The intoxicating smell of blood trickles her nose, it’s like lilac wine and wet ink. The red paint stained her black fingernails. Lilith makes no attempt to wipe them away, instead sinking closer to her floorboards. 

She misses her childhood bedroom. When she would lie on the fluffy carpet under Edalyn’s bed so she didn’t have another nightmare. When the floorboards would creak when she entered, and Edalyn would calm down. How she would let one of her arms hang down the side for her to hold. 

She misses the pirate ship, and the lumpy bed in the captain cabin. Where he would hold her close when she had found out of her father’s affair. How he held her close to his chest while she cried for Titan knows how long. How they had escaped into the sea until they were found weeks later. He misses his spiky brown locks and his golden eyes. She misses duelling with him and dancing with him in the moonlight. 

She misses loving him, even if it was in the secrecy of her heart. 

Lilith doesn’t want to love again. It's not worth the pain of losing them, which she knows she inevitably will. 

But it’s too late. She’s let them into her fragile heart of glass.

Because Lilith Clawthorne is a foolish woman. A horrible yet foolish woman. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ive decided to give Dumb Bitch and Dumb Bastard swords. And im giving their children ones too. 
> 
> But yeah, swords. I like swords. They're cool.


	6. Wilting Lilies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edalyn Clawthorne hates the color teal. Not that there was anything wrong with the color itself, it was just what reminded her of.
> 
> There is, of course, a perfectly logical explanation for this. 
> 
> Her father had teal eyes, so did Lilith. And both had ruined her beyond repair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CLAWTHORNE PARENTS BELONG TO VANILLATEA360. DO NOT ASK ME ABOUT THEM I WILL SEND U STRAIGHT TO BEA. 
> 
> \--x--  
> I need a bard teacher name and my dumbass went with Mr. Beathoven.  
> \--x--
> 
> Chapter dedicated to VanillaTea360 bc she's been having a tough week and I love her so much and she deserves the world but alas this will make up for it in the mean time. I love you girl and I hope the best for u. Great job on that tournament, im really proud of you. I love you so much. ALSO CLAWTHORNE PARENTS BELONG TO HER I WILL SEND YOU TO BEA IF YOU ASK SO ASK HER NOT ME.

**CLAWTHORNE PARENTS BELONG TO VANILLATEA360. DO NOT ASK ME ABOUT THEM I WILL SEND U STRAIGHT TO BEA.**

\--x--

Edalyn Clawthorne is 6 years old when she goes into preschool.

She hates it there. 

So naturally, she cries until she gets her sister. Though half the time, it doesn’t work. 

But today she gets to miss class because her entire family is called into the principal’s office. So she supposed that was pretty good. 

Her sister has her arms bandaged, sitting next to a boy who was equally as tattered up. He has brown hair and yellow eyes, both smiling and chatting away. Her sister has the widest grin she’s ever seen. Which Edalyn finds a bit weird. 

Making her way over to her, she props herself next to her sister while her parents chat with a man named ‘Bump’. It’s a stupid name, she thinks. And he has a stupid face too. But that’s not what she’s worried about.

“Who are you?” she asks him, making the boy grin.

“I’m Alador Blight!” the boy chirps cheerfully. 

His grin is one of a wolf, all teeth and snarl. It’s proud and happy and Edalyn approves of him immediately. His grin makes Lilith’s grow wider, making Edalyn slightly jealous. 

Lily’s her friend. Not his. 

“Lily, who is he?”

“This is Alador! My friend from sword fighting!” 

Oh! He must be Sir Philip’s student. The one Lilith ran off to every now and then. Eda’s interest grew, making her hold onto her sister’s hand. 

The boy smiles at them joyfully, sticking his hand out for her to shake. Eda happily accepts it, though she shakes it too hard. She knows this because he starts whining about it. Which Eda just sticks her tongue out to. 

“Why are we in here anyway?”

“Me and Alador got into a swords duel. And apparently that’s ‘not appropriate to school’ and a ‘violation’ because ‘weapons aren't’ allowed on school grounds’,” her sister explained.

“That’s stupid.”

“I know,” the older two said in unison, making them share another smile. 

Eda doesn’t really understand what that is. The whole… smiling thing. 

“I PUSHED YOU OFF A BALCONY ONCE I WILL DO IT AGAIN, BLIGHT!” she can hear her mom yell.

A woman’s voice follows, though Eda can’t say that she recognizes it. “ALL I SAID WAS THAT YOU LOOKED BETTER WITH YOUR HAIR DYED WHITE. HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT IT WOULD OFFEND YOU?” 

“ALEXANDER WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING?” 

“YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU DECIDED TO HAVE THE PERSONALITY OF A STALE LOAF OF BREAD.” her dad yells at the unknown man.

The shouting cut them off as 4 adults stormed out of Bump’s office. A man and a woman dressed in old fashioned clothing quickly grab the boy by the arm, faces covered in red. Lilith tries to ignore the way he flinches when he does. 

Weird…

“Alador, we’re leaving,” the man said.

“But-”

“I said, we’re _leaving_.”

The boy doesn’t protest further. He follows his parents all the way to the end of the hallway while they argue with one another. Eda swears that she sees him wave at them, which Lilith returns eagerly. 

Eda is going to be honest, Lilith isn’t good with people. 

She’s always too hyper, saying things that other people don’t care enough to talk with her about. She’s loud and people don’t like that. Though, Eda would probably punch anyone who dared make fun of her. 

But it’s nice to know Lily made a friend. Even if she did have to share her. 

“Bye Alador!” Lily beams happily, and Eda doesn’t think Lily’s ever smiled this much in her life.

Alador smiles at the girl, almost forgetting the man and woman behind him. But he is not foolish enough to do so. He may be young, but he was not foolish. 

Blights were not foolish or silly. Alador would make sure of that. 

“Father,” he says softly.

Jacob Blight turns to face his son, grasping onto his shoulder tighter. Alador makes sure to keep up with his mother’s footing, which is going at a rapid pace. It’s probably from embarrassment, he supposes. But Alador has something important to say, so he tries his best to keep up. 

“I think I’m going to marry her.” 

His father stops, before loudly chuckling. Making fun of his son for his foolish thinking. Alador finds offense to this, but does not give these feelings a voice. He is sure to keep quiet. 

There is a hint of playfulness in his voice, “None of that nonsense now Alador. You are too young for things like marriage.” It’s mocking and Alador doesn’t like it. 

But he is his father, and he would do well to respect him. 

Alador shook his head, determined to make a point. “No, I’m going to marry her. She’s really pretty, and strong too! She’ll carry the Blight name well father. I’m sure of it.” 

Jacob Blight does not waste time scolding him. He’s _young_ , he reminds himself. He has plenty of time to learn.

Eda stares at the dopey grin on her sister’s face. It’s weird… but then again, Lily’s always been weird. 

Her mom huffs as she steps out of Bump’s office, “I’m going to shove that prissy bitch’s face into a-”

“Delavina, language.” 

Delavina peers down to her kids and blushes greatly, trying to cover up her cussing. It doesn’t work. Though Eda and Lilith pretend that they did not hear, they all know that their mother is prone to cursing. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady,” Alexander Clawthorne said to his eldest, staring down at her. 

Lilith fidgeted with her fingers. Clearly feeling ashamed under her dad’s gaze. She tried to avoid his eye by looking away, shifting her weight onto her left leg. Alexander sighs, while his wife grinned widely. 

“We’re getting you ice scream.”

“What?” Alexander questions in disbelief. 

Delavina looked at her husband smuggly, “Are you going to tell me you aren’t proud of her for totally kicking Jacob’s kid’s ass- I mean... behind?” 

“No- I mean yes but- no! We shouldn’t reward this kind of behaviour.”

“Well from what I’m hearing they both had swords-”

“DELAVINA.” 

“WHAT?” 

Eda just stares at her bickering parents. Turning to her sister who had a small blush on her cheeks. There’s that dopey smile again, the one that's starting to weird Eda out more and more. 

“Do you like him or something?” 

Lilith turned to her sister, raising a brow as she did. 

“Of course I like him. He’s my friend.” 

“No I mean like,” Eda tries to think of the right word. Though it doesn’t quite fall on her tongue. She looks up at her parents, who are bickering. The two are stupidly in love. It’s gross and weird but it isn’t like Eda isn’t _opposed_ to it. It’s just a bit strange to her.

“Like would you marry him?” she asks, finally thinking of the right phrase. 

Lilith ponders for a moment, bringing a hand to her chin. She thinks for a while, before cracking a small smile. Placing her hands on her hips, she nods. 

Delavina nudged the two towards their home, “Let’s go home, we’ve all had a bit of a day.” 

Lilith excitedly grabs onto her father’s hand, now facing the directions of their home. Her teal eyes look into his, which are the same colour. Alexander knows much of their daughter’s features take after their mother, but he feels quite proud that Lilith has his eyes. 

“I’m going to marry Alador,” she announced confidently.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT,” Delavina demands out of the blue.

Lilith pouted, “Why not?” She whined.

Delavina slings Eda's small bag on her shoulders, grabbing onto the small child’s hands. Eda wobbles a bit as she tries to walk with her family. 

“I refuse to have the Blights in my family tree.” 

“Delavina-“

“You’re gonna look at me and say you’re gonna allow our daughter to have a father in law that goes on a keto diet?”

Alexander opens his mouth but no noise leaves. He thinks for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that his wife is right. 

“Lily, you’re not allowed to marry that boy.”

“Why not?”

Alexander steps in before his wife can say something else she’s not supposed to. Or something the kids don’t understand. 

“You’re too young to get married. You have to wait until you're older.” 

The redhead huffed at the blond man, looking away in annoyance. 

“I don’t mind waiting.” 

Eda gagged in disgust, which makes her mom holler in laughter. She was never going to get married. Never. Not in a million years. Lily’s crazy for even considering the possibility. Who would want to be married when you could be a lone hero? Isn’t life supposed to be about adventure? 

But it’s not the worst thing, she guesses. At least Lilith chose someone nice, or so she thinks. Eda didn’t get to know the boy that well, but she hoped that she got to know him better. 

Exactly 1 year passes from that day, and Edalyn Clawthorne has one thought in mind. 

She takes that back. 

“Would you stop holding it like that?” she demanded, holding the violin to her shoulder. 

Alador huffed, setting it down. Eda can tell that he didn’t want to be there, which is weird. If he didn’t want to be here then why in titan’s name did he come? And even so, the most respectful thing he could do was Hold. The. Bow. Correctly. 

Was that too much to ask?

“Quit telling me what to do, Edalyn,” he spat angrily.

Eda let a scroll form on her features, “I told you not to call me that! Eda is just fine. Edalyn sounds stupid… like you.” 

“Hey!”

They bicker on and on in the sea of middle schoolers. Eda knows he can do better. She’s seen him perform well, when the scary witches “Jacob and Fantessa” were in the crowd. Alador was almost as good as her. _Almost_. 

So the fact that he was grabbing onto the frog and grip lazily was absolutely _sending_ her. He wasn’t even in the holding position!

“You’re a disgrace, you know that?”

“And you set the classroom on fire and you aren’t even in grade school yet.”

“...”

“Yeah you didn’t think I knew about that huh?” 

Eda hits him in the head, because words fail her at the moment. 

She knows not to make him too angry, though. They are the only elementary kids in the sea of middle schoolers. And Edalyn has learned that 14 year olds are cruel, especially when you're better than them. 

So they’re stuck with each other for the rest of the year. Eda doesn’t actually mind it all that much. Despite him being a literal pain, Eda enjoys his company. He dislikes every single person she does, so she can go on and on about how they suck and he’ll listen. 

But she’d never tell that to him. For he has an ego bigger than Lily’s hair. 

Overall, Eda would say that her life is perfect. Her mom is the best and makes the best brownies. Dad always has cool stories to tell and her sister is her best friend. She’s made plenty of friends in class and she’s really happy. 

For what it’s worth, Eda is happy. 

“What do you think would happen if we hid all the rosin?”

Alador scoffed, turning away to cross his arms, “I will not be a part of such childish inquiries, Edalyn.” 

But then the smallest grin crawls on his face, though she knows he will deny of its existence. He packs away his wooden instrument into it’s blue case, zipping it close as he heads towards the door. 

“But I do know that Mr. Beathoven keeps all of the rosin in the bottom drawer of his desk. Do what you will with that information.” 

He walks away without another word. Eda smiled before making way towards the old teacher’s desk. 

Alador and Eda pretend not to know who made the giant rosin statue at the school entrance. 

Eda’s life is perfectly good the way it is. 

\--x--

Eda Clawthorne is 8 years old when the fighting begins.

Dad stops coming home, and every night, they fight. 

Eda is scared. She hates to admit it, but she’s terrified. 

“Come on Edalyn. Let’s go upstairs. I can help you with your homework...okay?” 

Eda nods, taking her sister’s hand. They go upstairs to her room, and Eda sinks into her bed. Lilith takes out her notebook and pencils, explaining the different types of cauldrons and their uses. She doesn’t digest half of it, too dreadful over the ruckus downstairs. 

“Hey… Eda? Are you listening to me?”

“Oh uh- yeah. Yeah I was,” she lies. 

“Really?” her sister questions, closing the book on her lap shut. She crosses her arms and leans back on her bed. “Then what did I just say about the difference between spider glass and crystal cauldrons?”

...Eda doesn’t know. 

“That… they’re made of different glasses?” Eda tries, cringing at her own answer. 

Lilith sighs, “Actually, they’re made of the same glass, but they’re weaved in different temperatures.” 

Something loud then echoes from downstairs, making Eda’s heart sink more. 

Why were they fighting? Why was it happening?

“Come here,” Lilith whispers, opening her arms for Eda to sink into. 

Eda eagerly hugs her sister back, digging her face into her shoulder. Hoping that it would drown out the voice at least a little bit. Lilith caressed her hair, trying her best to comfort her little sister. 

She whispers reassurances that Eda knows she can’t keep. Words like “It’s going to be okay” and “Mom says everyone’s parents go through this sometimes” and “they’ll make up in no time” are passed around. She isn’t stupid. She knows full well Lily can’t make them stop. 

“Let’s go to bed. We have school tomorrow.” 

Normally, Eda would throw a fit. But tonight, her heart was just a bit too heavy. 

“Okay…” 

The youngest Clawthorne could not explain the feeling in her chest. The pain and ache that came with it. She… she never felt this feeling before, but she does know that she never wants to feel like that again. 

Ever. 

Lilith gives her a kiss on the cheek before heading to her room. Making sure to turn on the nightlight before closing the door. Eda tossed and turned in bed, trying to get herself to sleep. Even when she heard the front door lock and her parent’s bedroom open, the voices were still there. She could still hear the screaming. It was no use, she continued to stay restless. 

But when she does sleep, she has a nightmare. 

Eda screams awake, crying out for her mom. 

Mom doesn’t come like she usually does. She doesn’t come rushing in and make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t stay the night like she’s supposed to. Dad doesn’t come either. Actually, Eda isn’t even sure if he’s home tonight. 

But then the floorboards creak. 

She looks up to see not her mother, but Lily standing there instead. Eyes half lidded with a pink stuffed rabbit tucked beneath her arms. Making way towards her sister, she gives her another hug. Giving Eda all the time to cry into her shoulder. 

No one comes, even if Eda’s cries echo through their home. 

But Lily holds her, and when she comes down, she doesn’t leave. Instead she lies down on the carpet beneath her bed. Eda feels guilty for making her sleep there, but Lilith knows full well that Eda liked her personal space when sleeping. 

Then suddenly, Eda grows scared. What if Lily left in the middle of the night? What if she woke up and she wasn’t there? What if-

She feels a gentle hand hold hers. Looking down, she sees Lilith smile at her. Holding onto the hand that lay out off the side of her bed. Gentle snores filled her room, signaling that she had fallen asleep. 

Suddenly, she relaxes. Lily wouldn’t leave her. She’s her big sister after all. She’s supposed to protect her! Yeah! They’d be just fine. 

The gentle breathing of her sister lull her to sleep. And when she wakes, she’s still there. Holding onto her hand with a small toy tucked beneath her small frame. 

Eda decides right then and there that she wants to join the Potions track. Just like her sister. 

They walk to school, hand in hand like the morning. Alador greets them at the door and Eda runs off to Principal Bump with the rest of the first years. Lilith waves goodbye and makes her way to the potions classroom. Her softening at the sight of the boy with the wolfish grin. 

Things would be okay, she did have her sister after all! And as long as she had Lily, things couldn’t be that bad.

Right?

\--x--

Eda is 9 years old when mom and dad don’t love her anymore.

She knows this because they miss her violin recitals. 

Eda looks through the curtains one last time, much to the dismay of the teacher. Her frown grows wider when she doesn’t see her parents in the crowd. Her grip on the instruments tighten, and her heart drops when she realizes the time. 

They aren’t going to come. 

“Are you looking for your parents too?” 

Turning to see Alador there, she nods quietly. Hanging her head in embarrassment. 

She looks through the crowd one more time. Maybe they were just running late. Mom and dad wouldn’t miss this right? Sure they had skipped the last 10, but they had to come today. They knew how important this was to her. 

He gave a knowing look, “Me too.”

Even if the feeling of disappointment was still there, it felt… comforting. To know that she wasn’t the only one. Alador gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, before retreating back to the second row of chairs. 

Eda was first chair, and the youngest in the orchestra. They had to come. 

“Edalyn! Get into position!” Mr. Beathoven yells. 

They’d make it. Eda was sure of it. 

Taking a seat, she holds her breath as the curtains begin to open. The stage lights illuminate brightly onto her face. Blinding her from the crowd in front of her.

She silently thanks the titan for it. 

Bringing her violin up to her shoulder, she leaned into the shoulder rest. She brought the edge of the bow to her D string. She forced her eyes to look at the conductor. Following the long baton rather than the crowd. 

They’d come. She’s sure of it. 

She drags her bow down, pressing two of her fingers onto the fingerboard. Shaking her wrist as she does a vibrato. She knows the kids behind her can’t do that, so she makes sure it’s loud enough for everyone to hear. 

The entire song is pretty fast paced and loud. An energetic piece made during the Savage ages. Though the public knows of the horrors of that time period, Eda couldn’t help but feel more drawn to the bards of said time period. It was fun and energetic. Not like the boring pieces Alador always insisted he had to play. Even though you could see the boredom practically falling on his face. 

Eda’s fingers travel faster as she drowns out the noises around her. Her parents could wait. Right now, she needs to pay attention to this piece. 

She pulls the bow down rapidly, repeating the motion over and over again. Half the bow continuously caressing the A string as she did. 

The faster and faster the song became, the more her nerves caught up to her. 

What if they didn’t come?

No. That was stupid. They knew how important this was to her. Surely they’d come. 

And for that she had to be perfect. 

Staring at the baton her teacher had been rapidly swinging in the air, her eyes and hands are sure to follow. Her sole focus began to shift onto the piece in front of her. The little sixteenth notes were gonna sound like a mess behind her, but she’s going to make sure they know she’s the only one who gets them right.

Oh and Alador too she guesses. Seriously they were older than them, how did they still suck?

Traveling to the G string abruptly, the entire orchestra behind her stops and she begins her short solo. 

She tries harder than she’s ever tried before. 

Every note is perfect. The pacing isn’t off in the slightest and she skips no beat. She’s on tempo and Eda can see the pride on her teacher's face when she finishes. 

The crowd claps and she finally allows herself to look at the people again. Many witches and demons of all kinds stood up to cheer for their children. 

But Alexander and Delavina Clawthorne are nowhere in sight. 

They… they didn’t come…

A cheer in the crowd captures her attention, a great fiery red in the sea of parents. 

Lily looked so small compared to everyone there. Undoubtedly the shortest one there. Well… maybe that was because she was the only child in the crowd of parents. Clapping her hands and beaming more than she’d ever seen her. She has two small bouquets of flowers tucked under both of her arms. Making her clapping slightly off and even awkward. 

Lily came. 

“They didn’t come,” a small voice said beside her. She turns to see a broken stare at her friend. 

The Blights didn’t come either. 

“It’s… it’s okay. Look, see? Lily came! And she brought flowers too!” she tried reassuring him. 

It isn’t fair. For either of them. They were the best ones there and they didn’t come. 

They both stand up, shoulders slumped. Bowing as the rest of the secondary kids did. They both rush off the stage quickly. Shame rising in their hearts. 

They didn’t come. 

“You two were amazing up there!” a soft voice cries in front of them. 

Lily walks over to them, offering them flowers just like the parents around them. The two musicians soften at the sight of her, gratefully taking the flowers from her. It didn’t make the feeling of dread go away, but it did lighten the burden. 

“Thanks Lily.”

“Thank you Lily.” 

She beamed, “I think you two were the best ones there. I don’t know much about instruments but everyone except you messed up at the end. And Eda, your solo was wonderful. You two did really really great!” 

Eda felt her ego rising, and she knows Blight boy does too. For they both stand up just a bit straighter.

“Of course we did. We’re always great!” 

“You know for someone who doesn’t like the violin, you’re pretty good at it.” Lily teases her friend. 

Alador blushes a brilliant red, softly shoving her away. Lilith knows better than to feel offended and just laughs. 

Taking her sister’s hand, they wave goodbye to their friend as they head home. The closer and closer they get, however, the more angry Eda could feel herself getting. 

As soon as Lilith sets down the keys, Eda runs straight to her room. She says nothing when she sees her mom passed out on the floor of her bedroom. She rushes straight in and huddles in the corner of her room. 

This is stupid. Why is she even so upset over a stupid concert. There’d be more to come. So why was this one so important to her?

She refused to cry. Crying was pathetic. And she isn’t pathetic. 

“What’s wrong?” Lilith asks, walking into the room as she tucks her sword under her bed.

Edalyn looks up from the corner she had been hiding in, sniffling as she did. Lilith quickly ran over to embrace her. Which her sister gladly took, not even bothering to hide her tears. 

Eda misses her mom. She misses dad. She misses when they were happy and had movie nights. When mom would make brownies and dad would tell stories. That or his deep hatred for the keto diet. 

She misses when they were happy. 

“What’s wrong, Eda?” 

Eda doesn’t talk. It sounds pathetic. She was crying over the fact her mother wouldn’t sing to her anymore. No. She wasn’t going to tell her that. It’s stupid. And Eda isn’t stupid. 

But… but this is also Lilith…

“I just… they didn’t come and...Mom… mom won’t sing to us anymore and… and I just…”

What is she supposed to say? That she misses her? That’s weird and… doesn’t make sense. Mom’s there all the time. She sees her everyday. So why… Why was that the easiest thing to say?

“It’s okay…” her sister whispers, “I miss them too.” 

Eda looks up at her in disbelief, eyes softly wrapped in the same yellow her mother had. Lilith planted a small kiss on the top of her head as she cuddled her a little closer. 

Lilith is their kid too. She must be feeling the same things she did. 

“I… I can start singing for you before bed if you want,” she offered awkwardly.

“That… would be nice.” 

Lily hums in approval as she hugs her again. Eda doesn’t move from her sister’s embrace. Lily smells of bread and lavender and it makes her calm. Her sister is nice. Dad may not come home and mom may not be there but at least Lilith was. So that was enough for her. 

Then, she gets a brilliant idea. Excitedly, she looks up at her sister. Who is confused at her sudden splurge of energy. 

“Maybe if me and you become powerful witches, then mom and dad will love us again! Right Lily?” 

It’s a good plan, Eda thinks. It’s quite literally the best thing Eda’s come up with in a while. If they could just become the most powerful witches in the Boiling Isles (maybe even get into the emperors coven or something), then mom and dad would surely love them again!

But… but why was Lily crying?

“Lily?” 

Her sister began sobbing, tucking her face in her hands. Her entire body started shaking as violent sobs came from her throat. She raised her glasses from her head, covering her eyes so the tears would stop. They didn’t, and they kept flooding through her eyes. Eda didn’t mean to make her cry! She was only trying to help!

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“N-no! It’s just… what did I do wrong? Why… why don’t they love us anymore?” she asked, voice shaky and broken. 

Eda doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why they don’t love them anymore. She wishes she knew, but she doesn’t. And it makes her mad. 

“I… I don’t know.” she admits truthfully. 

The silence fills the room, aside from Lilth’s sobbing every now and then. Eda felt the new feeling arise in her chest. It definitely wasn’t sadness. Eda knew what that felt like. No, this was new. It was hot, and burning. Evergrowing as it expanded, screaming words for her to ruin and step out of line. 

This was anger. 

It’s sweet. It’s a nice rosy flavour on her lips. Eda savours this feeling, even if it feels horrible. It’s better than feeling sad. It doesn’t weigh her down as much. In fact, it feels uplifting, powerful. It’s beautiful in the way a fire was. Burning all it’s pages even if you knew it was dangerous. 

Eventually, Lily stops crying. The redhead wipes her eyes and holds a look of determination. A fire blazing in her teal irises. 

“It’s okay,” the ten year old (almost eleven) assured them. “I’m going to take care of us now, okay Eda? I’m gonna do everything mom and dad did and I’ll do it even better,” she proclaimed. 

Eda smiled, wrapping her arms around her sister. Yeah! They didn’t need their parents! Lily was going to take care of them! They were going to be just fine. 

As long as they had each other, Eda had nothing to worry about.

\--x--

Eda is 12 years old when her sister passes out of exhaustion. 

Since her vow, Lilith had begun to do many things. 

For one, she began cooking more often. Learning all sorts of recipes and dishes as the years went by. Of course, there were a few mishaps every now and then, but Lilith was determined to succeed. 

Other than that, she also began a list of chores. Evenly divided by the two for every week. Though there are a few times she caught her sister yelling at her parents to do the dishes. 

“I asked you to do the dishes three times, Alexander. I will not ask you again! And- Delavina! I know you didn’t do your laundry like I asked. Honestly, no one ever helps me in this house!”

Eda finds it hilarious. 

But she also finds it kind of sad. 

She can see the way Lilith has begun to grow more tired. No longer eager to go to certain places. Even as the grudby captain, she’s slowing down. No longer angry when they lost a game or caring when her perfect A’s started slipping into B’s and C’s.

Eda feels guilty. It’s because of her that Lily was so tired. She’s like this because she’s taking care of her. Doing everything mom and dad had to do. A fire lit inside her chest at the thought of her parents. Why weren’t they doing anything? Why were they just watching while Lilith cooked dinner and they took care of the house? 

Her parents are selfish people. Edalyn knows this. 

Her father most of all.

It had started the week before Lily’s 14th birthday. When their parents started fighting again. There may have been over 40 cuss words from their mother alone and a couple of pink cosmetics thrown out of the window. But Eda doesn’t care about that. 

Not after she found out what her dad had done. 

“HOW COULD YOU!” she kept screaming over and over again. Hitting him as he tried to get her to calm down. 

It’s his fault! It’s his fault everyone is sad. It’s him that made mom so broken to the point she sleeps for 18 hours a day. It’s his fault Lilith has to wake up at 4 in the morning to make breakfast and why she has to come home early just to make dinner. 

It’s his fault they’re like this. 

She screams and hits him as the tears stream over. She hates him. Eda feels no remorse when she says this. She hates her father. She hates him more than anything. 

She hates him. 

The tears fall from her eyes like waterfalls as she screams more and more. How could he do this to them? Wasn’t he her father? Wasn’t he the one who was supposed to protect them? 

But instead, he goes and cheats on their mother. He’s unfaithful and he doesn’t come home. He goes off on his affairs and Eda _hates_ him. 

“I HATE YOU,” She gladly tells him. And she will tell him so over and over again. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO MOM? TO LILY? TO ME? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” 

Caring isn’t something she wants to do right now. Why did she have to care? He ruined them. It’s his fault, and she shouldn’t care about someone who ruined her. 

Eda turns to her sister, who was still frozen in place. Her eyes were half open, and there were bags beneath her eyes. She did not scream, nor flinch or move. She simply sat frozen on the living room coach. 

A single tear falls as she finally looks up to face her father. 

They both have teal eyes, Eda remembers that.  
  


“Why weren’t we enough?” she whispers, the words falling from her eyes like dandelion wisps of a flower. 

Alexander nearly cries. It looks like he wants to say something, but not words leave his lips. They wait and wait and he says nothing. Not even sparing a word for her to yell at. 

Her father is pathetic. 

This is not the man that tucked her into bed every night. The man that hugged and kissed her and told her she was a clever little Clawthorne. This man was a stranger to her. And she hates him. 

Lilith sighs, merely getting up from her seat. She picks up the books on the floor and excuses herself. Telling her sister to go to bed, it’s a school night after all. And that they had much to do. 

She spares no time excusing herself from the room. Marching into the bathroom and preparing for the night like nothing happened. When Eda screams at her why she isn’t upset, Lilith does not flinch or yell back. Her eyes simply gazed into her sister’s as she muttered an explanation. 

“I am tired, Edalyn. You can’t expect me to _feel_ anymore,” there’s a venom in her voice. Like one of a hollowed out doll. 

Eda yells at her and goes to bed. Immediately feeling a wave of guilt wash over. It isn’t Lily’s fault. She’s tired, she gets that. She’s tired too. 

But she just wanted someone to understand. 

Lilith wakes her up the next morning at 5 am. To ask if she wants mayonnaise on her sandwich or not. Eda nods her head and reminds her to lock the wine cellar. So that mom doesn’t get in. 

They eat breakfast in silence, the quiet eating their hearts out. The young ginger realizes her sister nodding off into sleep. She looks awful. The bags under her eyes are so dark and she looks too pale. I mean, they’re both pale, but this was too much to be considered normal. 

Mom, like usual, doesn’t realize. 

Not that Eda could blame her. They’re all tired. Too tired. 

They go to school, and this time Eda doesn’t bother to fill the silence. But she does notice something. Lilith has a headache, and she’s moving in zig zags. Feet failing to walk in a straight line. 

She looks sick. And tired. 

They make it to the steps, Lilith takes nearly 10 minutes just to get up. Alador is waiting, and he seems to have noticed it too.

“Lily! What happened to you? Are you okay?” he frantically asks. 

The boy wouldn’t be caught dead next to them most of the time. The more they grew, the more he began to care. So he began to refrain from being seen with them in public. Though he didn’t seem to want to break off his friendship with his sister anytime soon. 

So if the literal Alador Blight was worried, Eda knows something is wrong. 

“I’m fine, Al. Just didn’t get sleep last night.”

“You said that for about 2 weeks now! Lily, this is getting out of hand!” 

Eda doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so frightened. 

Wait a minute. Two weeks?! How did she not know this?

“Alador, I’m okay. Really. I’m fi- fi…” she struggles to finish the word “fine” and graps onto her head. Most likely having another migraine. 

Suddenly her hands go limp, dropping her textbooks onto the ground. A loud thud echoed in the halls as Lily’s body followed suit quickly. Her body went ice cold as she began to buckle her knees and fall. 

“LILY!” 

Alador catches her just in time thank titan. But her body is burning and limp and he’s terrified. Lilith looked so weak, so frail and Eda can feel the tears falling instantaneously. 

“What is going on?” a teacher’s voice called out from behind them. 

They turn to see a shocked principal Bump, who quickly takes action. He reaches out to take the girl into his hands, but Alador growls in protest. Holding her protectively over his chest. Hands cupping her pale cheeks. 

_Let him help her you stupid boy. That’s my sister we’re talking about._ She nearly snapped, but her words were lost in between sobs. 

“It’s okay. I’m going to help her.” he reassured. 

Alador stares at the man, still holding onto Lilith’s body for dear life. He analyzes him from head to toe. Making sure that he was not a threat. When Eda sends him a glare, he begrudgingly lets go. 

Lilith is taken to the healers office and does not leave until the next week. Mom and dad don’t notice. And Eda doesn’t bother to tell them. 

They’re neglectful, so she might as well do the same. 

Lilith wakes up every now and then, but does not wake long enough to say anything. Only drinking water and then immediately falling back into slumber. Eda doesn’t think she’s ever seen anyone so sick. The guilt practically gnawed at her all week. 

She had gotten like this taking care of her. It was her fault she had ended up that way. 

Lilith… Lilith is all she has left. The only family she had left. Eda isn’t going to lose that. 

Looking into the sun, Eda thinks of the fiery embers that burned in her sister’s eyes. A promise comes into mind, and she vows to keep it. 

Lilith is the only family she has left. She’s going to take care of her too. 

It was them against the world after all. 

\--x--

Eda is 14 and she realizes that Alador and Lilith aren’t messing with her. 

She didn’t think Lilith and Alador could _actually_ sword fight. She thought it was just some nerdy thing they did every now and then.

Oh how very wrong she was. 

Lilith charges at him, which Alador perfectly parries it. He sends a counter and what not towards her sister, which she misses by nearly an _inch_. Lilith doesn’t seem phased in the slightest. Which Eda should be seriously concerned about. 

The clanking of metal echoes around the woods, moving faster the more time went on. Alador is fast, but Lilith has more upper body strength. Both at an equal advantage despite their different strengths. 

Lilith is a natural athlete. Eda should have honestly expected that. But how in the actual love of titan did Alador Blight manage to do that?

Maybe Eda’s finally lost it. 

“Is… is it just me? Or is there like… a lot of romantic tension in this battle?” Caleb Park (Alador’s other friend. Glasses and soft tempered. Also, the definition of gay panic.) asked from them. 

Okay, nevermind she isn’t crazy.

The more and more Eda watches, the more she’s convinced that it’s a dance. There was just something about the way they perfectly mirrored each other. Flowing more gracefully than what was allowed of a witch. 

Lilith jumps as Alador aims at her waist, though she fails to actually escape from him. He quickly disarms her, and Lilith makes the mistake of having her eyes follow it. He swiftly grabs hold of her waist, pushing her onto the ground. She yelps as his body crashes onto hers. 

He pins her to the ground, straddling her hips to keep her down. The thing about Lilith is that she is stubborn, Alador knows this well. 

Eda nearly screams when his sword stabs into the grass above her sister’s head. Though Lilith looked more annoyed than anything. He smirks as Lilith shoots a glare at him. Though you could see her panting out of breath. 

“That’s 68 over 64,” he smiles smugly, who was equally tired out. 

Lilith scoffed from beneath him, “You know the time at the Knee doesn’t count!” 

“Did I not disarm you?”

“Yes but-”

“Did I also not pin you to the wall for 10 minutes because you refused to lose?”

“Okay but-” 

“Did I also not carry you to the tent because you were being a stubborn brat about losing?”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.” 

Lilith groaned, though she made no attempt to move from her current position. Alador just let out a hearty chuckle, which caused her to whine even more. 

“I hate you so much Alador Blight.” 

“I love you too Lily.” 

“Don’t ‘Lily’ me, you know I’m pissed at you.”

The boy smirked, and it’s all teeth and snarl, “You’re always pissed when you lose. Which is quite often if we’re looking back at the numbers.”

He leans in, and it’s a little too close for Eda to consider it platonic. Lilith continues to glare at him. Even if she still doesn’t move. Their foreheads are touching now, and they locked eyes in what seems to be a secret staring contest. The faintest blush crawl’s onto Lily’s face, noticeable due to her pale skin. 

Yeah there’s no way that’s platonic. 

Caleb seemed to share the same sentiment, because he pokes her multiple times to make sure he too has not lost his mind. 

“Yeah no I see it too,” she confirmed.

“Just making sure.” 

The Blight finally draws back with a triumphant smile. Finally letting go of the sword above his head. Though he does not stray from his position.

“I think you owe me, Lily dear.”

“Oh you’d love that wouldn't you?” She teases, leaning closer into his face. The smirk on her face is almost… flirtatious. Their lips are inches away from one another, and Eda doesn’t know what to think about it. 

Yeah… definitely not platonic.

They get up from the ground, Alador pulling her up. They laced their hands together and walked over to the other two. Both wearing matching grins on their faces. They both have the softest expressions on their faces. 

Then it finally occurs to her what the hell this is. 

Lilith is in love with him. 

“Now you believe us?” Lilith teased. 

Caleb and Eda just nod, still dumbfounded. By the swords or the so damn obvious tension between them, they didn’t know. Most likely both. 

Alador goes on about something regarding the different standing positions. How they were effective and how annoying it was that everyone seemed to get them wrong. Lilith listens attentively, eyes soft and lovestruck all things considered. 

In all honesty, Eda should have expected that. 

Oh for titan’s sake. They’re still holding hands! 

Alador and Lilith have always been affectionate. And it’s really not their fault either. None of them know the difference between normal intimacy and well… romantic ones. So it isn’t like it’s out of the ordinary to see them cuddling in the middle of reading a book or what not. 

But it’s a little different when they get too close to each other’s faces. Or when Alador would randomly pick her up out of nowhere just for the fun of it. Or when they’re sparring they seem just a bit closer than necessary. 

...SO THAT’S WHY EVERYONE THINKS THEY’RE DATING-

Eda is stupid. She is so so stupid for not seeing that. 

“You like him,” she says on the way back home, like it’s a fact. And you know what, it is. 

Lilith blush grows even darker than her hair, which Eda finds hilarious. 

“I DO NOT!” 

“Do too.”

“Do not!” 

“Do too!” 

This exchange goes on for a while. Which ends up chasing her all the way home and getting hit in the head twice. It’s alright though. Lily makes her a batch of muffins as an apology, and all is well. 

Eda’s life is in no ways perfect, but she knows that it’s okay just the way it is. She has her sister by her side. Together, they were going to be the strongest witches in the Boiling Isles. Their parents would regret the day they neglected them when they climbed their way into the Emperor’s coven. 

But then Lilith comes home sobbing. 

Eda doesn’t think she’s seen her this sad in a really long time.

Turns out, Alador told her that they can’t be friends anymore, and that he is marrying Odalia in less than a month. He says that his father says she’s too weak to be his friend. 

Eda sets the Blight’s mural on fire. The day she vowed to take care of her sister was not forgotten. The Blights had messed with her family, they would pay for that. 

As long as they had each other, they’d always have each other’s back. They’d be just fine.

Right?

\--x--

Eda is 15 and she hates her sister. 

More than her father. More than school. More than any god forsaken thing you could hate. 

Lilith cursed her, and it didn’t matter that she split it. She still ruined her life. 

“Eda, please open the door!” her sister begs. 

Open the door? And what then? Oh! Maybe she’d curse her again. Because that worked out so wonderfully the first time, didn’t it?

“No!” she yells. She’s not dumb enough to let her in. Who do you think she is? And idiot? 

The tears fall from her eyes. How could Lily do this to her? What had she done to deserve this? After everything, why would Lilith do this to her?

“I am so so sorry Edalyn! Please open the door!” 

She loved Lilith. She loved her so much. But how could she do this to her?

She clutches onto the carpet of the floor. The anger bubbles in her chest, hot and fiery and painful. It twists and turns at her heart and Edalyn knows this feeling too well. 

It’s pain, and it is anger, but now the two have melded into one. And it’s awfully painful. It’s hot and she feels as though she is on fire. The window reflects her face. Showing the giant grey streak along the side of her hair. One of her eyes is grey now and she hates it. Lilith has a matching one, and for all she knew, she deserved it. 

She looks like a monster.

It’s Lilith’s fault she’s a monster. And all for a stupid position she didn’t want anyway. 

It isn’t fair. 

“No! I… I… I never want to see you again!” she yells at the top of her lungs. 

A silence fills the hallway, making Eda wait for an answer. She wants her to leave. She wants her to leave and never come back because she meant what she said. 

Eda never wanted to see her sister again. 

“Okay.” she hears her say, and her footsteps slowly leave her room. 

Eda screams. Grabbing onto anything in the room, she throws and hits anything in her way. Sending all sorts of spells and magic where she could reach. 

Why? Why would they do this to her? What could she have done to deserve this?

Another scream echoes in the halls as her room destroys itself. Eda panted as she came to a stop, the dust dancing in the air as it did. 

Tears fall again, making her sink into the floor. Eda allows herself to cry for the first time in a very long time. 

She does not sleep that night. She is too afraid to. Too afraid that someone else will reach her when she is vulnerable. That the one she trusted most would creep up on her most vulnerable state and hurt her. 

No Eda does not sleep, she stays awake the entire night. And begins to despise the colour teal. 

There is nothing wrong with the colour itself per say. It was just what it had reminded her of. There is, of course, a perfectly logical explanation for this. 

Her father had teal eyes, so did Lilith. And both had ruined her beyond repair. 

Eda doesn’t even know why she cares. They’d ruined her, and she shouldn’t care about people who ruined her.

Then why… Why did she still love them?

No. That was stupid. She didn’t love them. She just thinks she does. Yeah… that was it. Loving them is impossible, especially after what they had done to her. 

She didn’t love Lilith or her father. That just didn’t make sense. 

It didn’t. 

\--x--

Eda is 18 years old and she misses her sister. 

She hates this. 

It’s been 2 years since Lily- Lilith. Since Lilith had graduated. She had done exactly what she had asked her to do. To never see her again. 

Why does she regret saying that?

No, she doesn’t. Lilith is a monster and she hates her. She cursed her and took many years of her life. It doesn’t matter that she split the curse or went after her. She had still ruined her life. 

Then why in titan’s name does she miss her so much?

She misses when Lilith would help her with homework. When she would brush her hair in the morning or wake her up at 4 am just to ask stupid questions. Like if she wanted apple blood soda with her pasta or not. 

She misses Lilith’s singing. And the chocolate muffins she’d make for her on tough days. The way she could tease Lily about her pansexual ass and all the times she could rely on her to cry. 

Eda misses her so so much. She thinks it’s actually killing her alive.

She thinks she’s forgotten just how _much_ Lilith had done over the years. How Eda didn’t actually know how to cook that well, and Titan knows that her parents couldn’t either. She’s pretty sure she’s seen her dad burn a peanut butter sandwich. 

The list of chores had grown longer, and Eda doesn’t bother doing it anymore. She’s going to graduate soon, and this isn’t her home anymore. 

Or it doesn’t feel like it, at least. Look, Eda doesn’t know anymore. 

Eda looks at the handkerchief in her hands. Adorned with lace and baby blue silk. Lilith never used it, she just liked how it looked. Not that she would admit it, but they both had a hoarding problem. The memory made her chuckle just a bit. 

No. She shouldn’t love Lilith. She shouldn’t miss her either. Lilith is cruel, and evil. She cursed her and… and…

Another whimper makes it past her lips as do the tears. She misses Lily. She misses her sister so much but she isn’t here. 

It isn’t fair. 

But Eda shakes her head to wipe her tears. Eda doesn’t need anyone. Not mom, not dad and especially not Lilith. She can make it on her own. She’s going to become the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. Everyone would know it. 

And she isn’t going to stick up to some stupid coven anyway. 

Turning back to the fireworks on her table, she grins at the plan she has conducted. If she was going to graduate she might as well do it in style. 

This would be her grand send off. To kick it to good ol’ Bump and maybe even Odalia Farechild… and her ex girlfriend. Yeah the three of them could get hit in the face. 

Up next, tax evasion. It shouldn’t be too hard. It’s not like anyone in the Clawthorne family actually knows how to pay taxes. 

If the world was going to knock Edalyn Clawthorne down, then it had to try harder. She’s going to get up every time. She’s going to get up and tell them to try harder next time. If the kid’s would jeer at her for being the Owl Beast then so be it! She’s going to wear that name like a badge of honour. She isn’t going to let the world knock her down.

Edalyn is not like her mother. She isn’t going to let some douchebag ruin her life. She isn’t like her father, she isn’t going to be pathetic. And she isn’t a coward like Lilith. 

No Edalyn is going to be a better Clawthorne than anyone in the entire dynasty. She’s going to be the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. 

And no one was going to stop her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey it was my birthday yesterday or well, today if ur in the US. In that case it ends in legit three minutes and I went on an adrenaline high for this chapter. I'm 15 now :D But chapters may not come as often. I have been having really bad depressive episodes and panic attacks (my school and home life aren't the best right now) but I promise to try and update more! I'm really glad you guys are staying for the ride. Please leave comment, they motivate me a lot :D


	7. Paintings and Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lilith often wonders where they go when they leave. Whether if their father is kind, and if their mother is gentle. Whether they were loved and cared for like they deserved. Whether they had friends they were fond of. If they are happy as they are when playing with the flowers in her meadow. Or when she reads to them under the willow tree when they grow tired. Whether they hug their mother the way they cuddle her so often. 
> 
> She also wonders why they come back so often. Though she does think it’s a little rude to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emira finally meets the lady of paint! 3/4 Blights down, one more to go. 
> 
> Library Lilith bc why not :D

Lilith will be honest.

She _heavily_ underestimated both kids. 

Edric is _fast_. And she isn’t putting that lightly. He may need help in offense attacks but he is quick on his feet. He is able to dodge his sister and he aims quickly as well. It’s impressive. Even if he still has a long way to go. 

Amity is clever. She knows where to aim. She knows where they are vulnerable and she’s patient enough to wait before striking. Though, she is not good with defense tactics just yet. No matter, she will get there. Lilith is sure of it. 

“Again,” she orders, though she is sure to be gentle. 

So Amity strikes again, and like usual, Edric dodges it perfectly. Then it’s his turn. His little sister takes a step back as he takes one forward. The exchange goes on for a while. Almost like a formulated dance. 

Lilith is shocked by just how patient they are. 

A little too patient. 

“Stop.” 

They stop midway and turn to her, eyes fixated on their new mentor. Instead of a disapproving glare, they were met with a soft smile. It took the young Blights aback, causing Edric to drop his sword promptly. Lilith let out a laugh as she helped the boy pick it up. 

Ms. Lilith is kind, they still had a hard time remembering that. 

“Alright, that’s good. But you two need to stop looking back.” 

Lilith brought her sword up to touch Amity’s blade. Folding her hand behind her back. Amity stares at her, leaning her sword to the left. Promptly staring down at her feet to make sure footing is correct.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she ordered, catching Amity’s eyes onto her own. 

Amity stared up at the Lady of Paint, struggling to do as she was told as they moved backwards 3 steps. She fumbled in and out of standing position 3 or 4 times before tripping over her own feet. 

Lilith offered her a hand, which Amity stared at for a while. Eyes clouding with something Lilith isn’t quite sure of. 

The little girl doesn’t keep her waiting. She takes it suddenly and avoids her gaze. The warmth of her hand is something Amity tries not to think too hard about it. 

“It’s okay, try again.” 

Again. 

It’s a word Ms. Lilith used often. To try again. That there was always another chance to succeed. 

That wasn’t something they were taught to do. 

The lady of paint let go of her hand, “I suggest you try by yourself, and then practice a bit with your brother.”

Amity took hold of her sword again, getting back into starter position one. Her brother followed soon after, mirroring her very movements. 

Lilith watches patiently, with only a slight glint of judgement in her eyes. But unlike father’s or mother’s, her’s aren’t threatening. 

They’re nearly kind. Like you wanted to try harder for her, even if you knew she would be caring either way. 

“Forward 3 times, backwards 4. Make sure to keep your eyes at the tip of your blade. It’s okay if you fall the first few times. It can’t be as bad from the time I got stuck in a tree and my friend had to pull me down.” 

Edric laughs, making Lilith’s grin grow wider. Ms. Lilith is funny, and likes it when they laugh. She doesn’t tell them that it’s improper or impolite. She is simply satisfied with them being _them_. 

Ms. Lilith is an odd woman to say the least. 

“Who was your teacher?” Edric asks innocently, like he usually did on their training sessions. 

Lilith thinks of her mentor’s eyes. Golden in a way Edalyn’s and Alador’s didn’t quite have. Though it was yellow all the same. It was more of a darker shade. One that was hardened over the years of life her mentor had endured. 

She also thinks of the fact that she’s dead. 

The frown on her face makes Edric devastated. 

He isn’t sure why it bothers him so much. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I said something I wasn’t supposed to again.” 

Lilith turned to them frantically, shaking her hands. Quickly making her way to kneel in front of him. 

“No! Edric dear, it’s alright! Really!” she assured him, allowing him to set down his blade. “I know you didn’t mean any harm.” 

“But you’re still sad…” he trailed, feeling the guilt well up again. 

Lilith went over to give the boy a hug. Wrapping her arms around him. Edric tensed, before bringing his own arms around her. She’s very soft, Edric notes. Like the silk bedding back at Blight Manor. She’s soft and smells of honey and fresh baked bread. 

Ms. Lilith is gentle, he will do his best to remind himself of that. 

“Not to worry dear. I’m just fine. Don’t go blaming yourself for silly things like this.”

Edric fidgeted with a few strands of her hair. Which curled and wove like the waves of a sea. How strange it was, to take the colour of fire, but feel like the sea. To expect it to be burning, but instead a soothing cold. 

Ms. Lilith is an odd woman.

Amity sits in front of them, arms crossed. No she is not envious of her brother. That’s stupid. And Amity isn’t stupid. 

Lilith extended a hand to her, offering her an embrace as well. Amity got up quickly, but was sure to take slow steps towards them. 

She needs to have dignity. She is a Blight after all. 

Sitting next to her, she allows her hands to wrap around her shoulder. The smell of bread and honey invaded her senses as she leaned into her shoulder. 

Amity likes Ms. Lilith. She is gentle, and kind. Amity is sure to remember this.

“My mentor's name was Lady Robyn of the North. She was known for having a really competitive rivalry with a man named Sir Philip. Nearly every other class, he’d show up and they’d duel. Most of the time, he’d bring his own apprentice along,” she started as the two cuddled closer to her side. 

The wind blew in the meadow quite softly. The flowers dancing like ocean waves and twinkling stars. Edric continued to play with the loose strands of Lilith’s hair. She didn’t seem to mind, so he continued as she talked of her mentor. 

“Once I got stuck on that very tree,” she said, pointing at the willow tree to their left. “He had to get me down because our mentors were too busy duelling to notice I’d gotten stuck. But on the way down, I fell and he hit his head on the grass. He _never_ let me hear the end of it.”

Lilith thought back to her youthful days. When she and Alador would duel and dance. When he’d whine about mundane things and she’d tease him relentlessly for it. His eyes brimming with life and smiles too full of teeth. His fangs always stuck out no matter what he did. 

A warm smile tugs at her lips, reaching all the way into her eyes. 

The willow tree just at the corner of her eye played back at her memories. Where she and her friend had first met. When they were too young to know of the horrible things life had planned for them. 

Not that she would tell anyone, but there was a reason she had built her cottage so near the tree. The single most selfish thing she had allowed herself to do. To build her home where she had met the love of her life. 

The fondness in her voice made Amity skeptical. 

“Did you love him?” she asks. 

It’s an innocent question. One that meant no harm whatsoever. She’s a child, Lilith tells herself. She doesn’t know the horrors of life yet.

Yes. Lilith did love him. Lilith loved him more than anything she had ever loved in her entire life. 

And she’d lost him too. 

“Yes. Yes I did,” she whispers truthfully, setting her hand onto her light green hair. “More than anything, actually.”

“What happened to him?”

“Got married. Probably had some kids. Whatever it is, I hope he’s happy.” 

He isn’t. She knows he isn’t. No matter what he or the Blight name tells him, he doesn't love Odalia. He does not enjoy his work and he is miserable in his own home. Lilith knows this, but who is she to tell them that?

“Why didn’t you marry him?” 

The voice in her head whispers. Too tired to yell or belittle her. _He never asked. I never asked. And I didn’t deserve him. I would only end up ruining him later._

But she swallows these words. Instead smiling at the two children. They are young, and deserved to live the wonders of life. They had plenty of time to learn of their cruelties. For now, she’d be sure to show them all the parts that made it wonderful.

They deserve nothing less.

“I didn’t need a prince. That’s why. Instead I’m a cool lady in the woods with a sword.”

“That is true,” the younger girl replied. Agreeing with her statement.

Edric shook his head, hugging a good chunk of her hair. It’s soft, just like the rest of her. How could he resist? 

“I’d want to get married,” he muttered under his breath, almost as though he were embarrassed to have an opposing opinion. “But also live in the woods with a sword.”

Lilith laughed as she ruffled the boy’s head, “I never said you couldn’t be both.” 

Amity beamed at the thought, clutching closer to her waist, “Yeah! We can both!” 

The warmth invades at her chest again. The little tingling sensations of the wind weren’t what stirred in her chest. The closer the two leaned into her, the more energy that burst into her. It’s soft, like lilac wine. She almost felt the desire to cuddle them closer. Give her all she had to offer and lay the world at their feet. 

But she can’t do that. She can allow them into her heart but she cannot allow herself into theirs. She cannot ruin them like she ruined her sister.

She could not allow it. 

“I think that’s enough training for today. Let’s go inside and I’ll make you some tea,” she offered as she got up from the grass.

The two rose as well, but quickly held onto both of her hands. Amity walked gracefully along while Edric skipped up and down with energy. 

Lilith does not understand this feeling in her chest. One of constant dread, but fluttering joy all at once. Like you were tired, but also full of energy for the little ones beside her. 

She’s known this feeling before, but she refuses to say it’s name. 

She cannot love these children. She could not do that to them. 

Lilith reminds herself that she is a horrible person. That no matter what she does to be a good citizen or a good teacher, she would never be anything other than a horrible person. 

There is no path of redemption for her, no matter how much she wished it. 

“Can we have brownies?” Edric asks, holding onto her hand just a bit tighter. Lilith reminds herself to be careful with her pointed nails. 

Lilith knows that this will not last. That these children will eventually leave her, like everyone in her life. That they will stop coming to her home for lessons and rob her fridge of her baked goods. She knows that one day, she will be alone again. 

_This is okay_ , she tells herself. _She deserves it_. 

“Sure thing, dear.”

Lilith often wonders where they go when they leave. That if their father is kind, and if their mother is gentle. Whether they were loved and cared for like they deserved. Whether they had friends they were fond of. If they are happy as they are when playing with the flowers in her meadow. Or when she reads to them under the willow tree when they grow tired. Whether they hug their mother the way they cuddle her so often. 

She also wonders why they come back so often. Though she does think it’s a little rude to ask. 

“Can you read to us too?” Amity asks softly, leaning her cheek onto the back of her hand.

“Not today, darling. But definitely next time.” 

The little girl looked disappointed, but seemed content with that promise. Sitting themselves down on the kitchen table, the two siblings found yet another thing to bicker about. Having been a sibling herself, she let the two be. Knowing the mess it could lead to when trying to intervene. 

Setting down the tea cups, Amity started lecturing her older brother. He didn’t seem to be listening. Instead rolling his eyes and puffing his cheek in protest. Lilith does her best not to laugh at them as she pours tea into their mugs. 

Callum nests on Edric’s hair, who he’s incredibly fond of. Which is good, she supposes. Callum only liked a select few. Especially when it came to people, though she couldn’t say that he was too fond of other palisman either. 

They eat and set off back home like they do every time they visit. Edric will place flowers in her hair and Amity will give her a hug. They wave goodbye with their swords at their sides. Disappearing into the trees hand in hand. 

And the cold returns. 

But Lilith can deal with it better now. She’s allowed it to settle there. Deep in the depths of her frail heart of glass. Familiar with every farewell she sang. The thought of them returning always soothed the ache for her. But the more time passed, the more she knew that one day, they would not return. And the cold would nip at her heart like frostbite until she was nothing more than she already was. 

A horrible person. 

She looks at the willow tree, the one haunting with memories she once had. Silhouettes of a boy and girl dancing under it after long days of school. Or a young boy and girl, cuddled at a woman’s side as she held a book out in front of them. Doing deep mocking voices for monsters along the way. 

It’s selfish of her to keep them here. To set them up for something they did not deserve. A constant war screaming in her head every time they came running to her door. 

A part of her wishes that they would leave, for it would prevent a worse heartbreak for her. But then another part of her wishes that they would stay longer. So that she may care for them properly. 

It’s her fault that she lets them stay. That she opens the door when they knock. 

“I am a stupid, stupid woman,” she mutters as she shuts the door behind her. 

No matter. They would leave soon. They would save themselves from her and would forget about her soon. 

The thought is painful, but it’s what Lilith deserved. She knows this well. 

She did not deserve a happy ending. Lilith would make sure to punish herself as long as she could. It is what she deserved. 

She will do well to remember this.

\--x--

No one must know that she is here. 

Emira makes way towards the library, walking up the steps with great speed. A lady mustn’t run, she reminds herself. Even if she is in a rush. She must be graceful and poised, everyone else could wait. If a lady is graceful enough, her tardiness could be forgiven. 

Or so mother says. 

Emira is careful to make a turn to the left as she searches for a book. The textbooks are at the west side of the building she realizes from the signs, so she heads there. 

It’s a magnificent building, Emira admits. Though nowhere near as luxurious as Blight Manor, it still had its own charm to it. Full of white marble halls and velvet curtains. The embroidery on them reminded her of one of her mother’s dresses. Which were never short from perfect and beautiful. 

She’s nearly surprised that such a magnificent place was open to all of the public. Buildings like this could easily be profited off as a ballroom. With some renovations, of course. It was still a bit _homey_ compared to other buildings she’d seen.

Then again, the nobles at mother’s parties did say that the owner of said establishment was an odd one. Rumour had it that they were actually a descendant of the LeClair family. Which was odd, considering she hadn’t seen any since Lady LeClair herself. 

Emira was fascinated that that woman was still _alive_. 

Walking through the walls, which were covered head to toe in neat rows of books, she felt oddly like a princess in a castle. If she weren’t a Blight, she might have twirled around in the open area. Pretending she was at a ball in her name.

But that’s silly, and Blight’s aren’t silly. She would do well to remember that.

Spotting a painted portrait on the wall, a golden plaque beneath it glittered. Capturing her attention immediately. She walked over to it, making sure to keep her back straight as she did. The plaque caught the light of the sun almost as perfectly as the colour of her eyes. 

_Lady Robyn of the North_ , read out the glittering letters. _Noble Swordswoman, Teacher and Founder of Admont Library._

Emira was nearly certain she’d seen her somewhere before. 

She shook her head. She’s here to find a book on potions, not to look around. If she were to do that, there were better places to spend her time. Not some library in the middle of town. 

Emira is a Blight. She would do well to remember that. 

The shelves decorated in yellow seemed to be a good place to start. 

Skimming through all of the shelves, there didn’t seem to be anything useful just yet. Though it did seem that the bigger books were at the top of the shelf.

Aka the one she can't quite reach on her own.

She struggles to reach for the books that seem most useful. There aren’t any ladders around, making her situation a whole lot more difficult. There doesn’t seem to be anyone she can ask for help and certainly nothing she could climb.

Then a gentle voice speaks beside her. 

“Do you need help with something?”

Emira turns and lets the smallest gasp escape her lips.

The woman is dressed in a white blouse, a perfectly even bow tied around her collar. Her skirt flares out a bit, with a shelf of books designed all around it. Though it isn’t the fashion choice that Emira finds fascinating.

It's her hair. A fierce red that fell nicely with her pale face. It's nearly white, the color of snow, but it isn’t like the snow in mother’s eyes. It's like snowfall on Hexmas eve. When the fireplace is roaring at your side and you stare out the window in anticipation for that one relative to pull up at the front of the manor.

Her eyes are blue. Or, well, eye she guessed. The other was grey. Like the ocean or the sky. More specifically, the ocean where the pirate ship stood. 

She’s just as beautiful as the stars that night. Which made home on her eyes. Glistening even when the sun shone on her back. Perhaps this is where the stars went when the sun came up. They had to go somewhere after all. 

She’s one of the most beautiful people she’s ever seen.

Was it possible to look this gentle? So motherly and soft? 

Emira thinks she’s perfect. And unlike the woman before, she knows exactly where she’s seen her before.

“You’re the Woman Made of Paint!” she exclaimed.

Oh titan that was too loud. 

But the woman doesn’t yell or look at her weird. In fact, she looks a bit taken aback. A gentle smile quickly overtakes her lips and Emira thinks she’s even more beautiful than the paintings themselves.

“You’re Edric and Amity’s sister aren’t you?” she offers, tucking one hand underneath the other. 

How did she know her brother and sister?

“How… do you know them?”

They didn’t tell her. 

Lilith wonders if she should tell her. That her brother and sister come to her often so they could learn. That she mentors them in the art of the blade, and makes them little treats on the way. That she reads them stories under the willow tree and that they make her heart swell in love and pain. 

Wait did she just say love-

No. She cannot love them. She cannot do that to them. 

She wonders why they didn’t bring her along.

“I've seen them around,” she lies. There must have been a reason they did not bring her. It was simply not her place to judge. 

“But- uh… did you need help with something?” 

Oh. Right.

“Yes. I… I need help finding a potions book. Preferably one with a sleeping draught. If you can find one that repels nightmares that’s even better.”

“What’s a child such as yourself looking for a potions book that advanced?”

“I’m not a child! I’m 10! That’s older than Edric by 3 minutes,” she said, holding out 3 fingers to prove her point. 

Lilith nearly laughs at her, but decides against it. Instead stifling it as she grinned in amusement. She thinks back to her youth years, when she was as stubborn as the girl before her. 

They must be twins, she realizes. That’s why she looked so familiar. She and Edric were twins. 

Like her dreams, a voice whispers. But she’s sure to diminish it as soon as it rises. She cannot ruin her either. Not when she had already let the other two in. 

“Alright then. That still doesn’t tell me why you’re looking for such an advanced potion,” she jabbed softly, making sure to keep the smile on her face. 

But it falls as Emira’s eyes dart away in an almost melancholy manner. Gold eyes like her siblings filling with something that didn’t belong there. 

Was it possible for a child to look this tired?

_“You always look tired,” he whispered, spinning her again before his hand fell onto her waist once more._

_“What?” she questioned, feet making a box as she followed his lead in a waltz._

_He shrugged, dipping her frail body lightly. Lilith carefully holds onto his shoulder just a little tighter. Before getting up and parting, hands still intertwined. Her hand stuck out to her left, while Alador’s stuck out to his right. She spins back into his arms, continuing the dance they both know too well._

_“You look tired. All the time. When you study, when you wake up, when we dance. You just always look tired. Which is a little weird. We’re only 12.”_

_She snorts at him. He’s being silly again. Though she thinks it’s sweet that he cares. No matter how much he tries to convince her he doesn’t. Both her hands fall on this shoulder, and he hoists her into the air to spin her. She allows herself to laugh before he gently set her down._

_“I’m just fine, Alador.”_

She knows that tiredness too well. It isn’t a pleasant feeling. And it’s certainly not what she deserved. 

“Mittens… has trouble sleeping at night. Always crying. And Edric never sleeps until she cries and he has to lull her to sleep again. I just thought that maybe I could help them both sleep.”

_And then I could sleep too_. But Emira doesn’t say that. Emira isn’t going to let anyone know her weaknesses. Or the fact that she weeps because she sees her mother when she stares into the mirror. That the mere thought of her mother terrifies her. 

The world isn't going to get that satisfaction.

...Wait did she just tell a complete stranger about her whereabouts? 

What in titan’s name did she just do?

Emira’s heart isn’t beating as loudly as she expected it to. For some reason, there was an odd feeling of peace there. And… it didn’t sit right. It wasn’t unpleasant, just… strange. 

“That’s a nice thought dear,” says the lady of paint, snapping her out of her thoughts. Though the hesitance in her voice makes Emira frown. “But I don’t think children such as yourselves should be drinking such strong potions.”

Emira lets her heart fall deep, but the lady of paint is quick to speak. Reaching for a book at the 5th or 6th shelf (Emira doesn’t understand why they’re so tall), she skims through and opens to a page. Revealing to her a spread labelled “Calming Tonic” as an alternative. 

“These are often used to help with anxiety and for sleeping. It’s a great alternative to draughts, which tend to make you feel horrible in the morning.”

That’s… a good alternative. 

Emira skims over the contents of the spread, trying her best to memorize the words of the ingredients listed. Monk’s cumin sounded easy enough. And so was heart thyme but the other names didn’t jumble well to her. She didn’t even know what rose film was or what a lemon soul looked like… and by the sounds of it she really didn’t want to know. 

The woman seemed to pick up on her discomfort, because she closes the book shut and offers her a hand. Emira wonders if she should take it. Whether it was wise to trust the woman in her father’s paintings. 

But… she looked so kind. So warm, so open and it’s everything Emira has ever wanted. Even if she refuses to accept that. 

“I could make it for you if you’d like,” she offers, but it feels like she’s offering her the world. 

Emira wonders what it would be like to hug her. Whether she was as soft as she looked. As she takes her hand and nods her head, she sees that she’s right. Even if her fingernails are sharp and covered in black polish, they don’t look as threatening as mother’s. In fact, they made her look more graceful. 

She’s too enthralled to say anything, but the lady of paint doesn’t seem to mind. She merely leads her to a wall of shelves. Bringing a hand to her lips, the lady of paint taps a dusted book at the very corner of the shelf. Pulling it to reveal a lever. 

The wall piece by piece folds into itself, revealing a small room full of earthy scents of all sorts of plants. Flowers of all kinds hung in pots around the ceiling and Emira finds it funny that there are more books behind said room. 

“Woah…”

“Well hurry along then.” 

She steps into the gold wallpaper overed room, which seemed to be a common thing with the woman. She seemed to take a liking to golds, blacks and browns. Lace gloves and wax stamps also revealed that the woman had a darker, older aesthetic. Which Emira found ever more interesting. 

She’s like a walking painting, she thinks. And she sees why Papa has taken a liking to doing her presence justice.

“You can sit over there if you’d like, I’ll start heating up the cauldron. There’s tea and biscuits on the shelf over there if you’d like any.”

Her voice is so soft, just like the rest of her. And Emira doesn’t understand how someone could be this beautiful. It looks like she’s witnessing a book. Where there had been so much going on through the last few chapters, and she was finally just getting to breathe. To just watch as the world went by. 

Emira likes her, but she isn’t sure _why_. It’s weird to take a liking to someone you had met only a few minutes prior. It didn’t make sense. Emira’s held everyone at a distance, but this woman had been so quick to push past all her walls. 

It’s frustrating. And makes no sense at all. 

So instead she watches the woman do her work. Heat up her cauldron, pick at a few plants, take out a couple small bottles and place them neatly on the table. There’s so much grace in the way she does it. Like a smooth waltz. 

She sort of reminded her of Edric, it was just the way they both floated as they walked. And when Lilith flicks her hand over the cauldron, how can she not gasp?

Her craft looks breathtaking. 

The woman mixed and stirred, the solution bubbling softly in the distance. Drawing a circle in the air, 5 or so bottles floated up into the air, pouring into the giant cauldron in front of her. 

There was something about this woman that was just so odd. 

“Would you like to help?” 

Emira snapped out of her thoughts, blushing madly as she looked away. She’d been staring hadn’t she?

“You were staring for a while, I thought you looked a little bored,” she grins sheepishly.

Wanting to be of some use, she got up from where she had been sitting. Not even sure when she had been holding a teacup or much less 3 - 5 cookies (they were good, and she didn’t seem mad). 

“What...do I do?” she asked uselessly.

God she’s so useless. 

“Why don’t you go and pick out exactly 5 spring dill seeds for me,” she offered, pointing to a bag at her left. 

So Emira does, she picks out exactly 5 and the woman lets her grind them in a little bowl and stick. It nearly turns to fine dust when she’s done. The lady of paint tells her that she’s proud of her and Emira nearly bursts out crying. 

But she doesn’t. She is still a Blight after all. 

“Now stir three times clockwise and five times counter-clockwise,” she ordered, though her words aren’t as mean as they looked.

Emira does, and Lilith congratulates her for doing it right. The more the afternoon passes the more words are exchanged between the two. Emira finds it nearly impossible to _not_ like her.

She says her name is Lilith Clawthorne. She’s the potions teacher at Hexside and she owns the library they’re in. The portrait in the hall is her teacher. Who passed away a few years back. She lives alone in the woods and is a swordswoman. 

“I’m learning to be a swordswoman too!” she can’t help but say excitedly. 

Lilith smiles, “Really? Who’s your teacher?”

“My papa is teaching me!” 

Lilith found it a bit strange. Why would Edric and Amity come to her if their father was perfectly capable of teaching them?

Maybe they were all hiding something from one another. 

“Is he a good teacher?” she inquires instead.

Emira nods, “He’s a little strict, but he’s really understanding. He doesn’t get mad when I make mistakes.”

It’s true. Papa doesn’t get mad anymore. Sure, sometimes he seems frustrated, but he doesn’t take it out on her. Which she appreciates. 

She can’t say the same for her mother. 

Lilith frowns, “You should never get mad at someone for making mistakes. Mistakes are how you learn.” 

Emira just shrugs, continuing to stir as instructed. Ms. Lilith is a strange woman, but it isn’t unwelcome. 

Soon enough, the tonic is done. She can tell by the way the colour changes into a magnificent soft blue colour. Lilith goes over to turn the stove off, and when Emira moves out of the way, she knocks over a bottle of sun grains. 

Her heart stops as the glass shatters into a million pieces. The grains now free and roaming from their confined prison. The sound rings loudly in Emira’s ears and suddenly, the air grows thin.

Her heart stops beating too.

She... didn’t mean to! She was just trying to stay out of the way and… and…

Emira can’t look at Lilith. She’s too busy trying to calm her beating heart rate. Which is drumming loudly in her ears. Reminding to prepare herself, Emira tightens her shoulders and takes in a deep breath. Awaiting something, anything really. 

But it never comes. 

Instead she sighs, rubbing her temple in frustration. She walks over to Emira and takes both her hands into hers.

Emira knows what happens next.

She braces herself.

“Are you alright dear?”

…

What?

“Any scratches? Anything bruised or cut?” 

She’s... not mad?

“You don’t seem to be hurt, but do you feel okay dear? You seem frightened.” 

Emira wants to cry. 

She doesn’t know why she does, Emira is a Blight. She isn’t supposed to cry. She isn’t supposed to feel frustrated because the woman before her is so so kind. And for no reason too! Emira didn’t say she was a Blight. And she doesn’t need to because she knows it wouldn’t make a difference in the way she held onto her hands so gently. 

“Are you alright?!” she asked frantically. “Why… why are you crying?” 

“I… you… just…” 

Titan she can’t even form words. 

Next thing she knows she’s in her arms, her hands brush through her hair and she’s sobbing softly into her shoulder. She tells her that it’s alright and that she doesn’t have to be scared of her. 

She isn’t scared. She’s just overwhelmed by how nice she is. 

Emira knows that this is pathetic, and that it’s weakness. But the way she holds her isn’t something you just walk away from. 

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” she whispers, and Emira doesn’t know how long she’s sat in her lap weeping. 

All she knows is by the time she’s done, Lilith wipes her tears away, and she’s stuffing her face with a muffin. Ms. Lilith doesn’t judge or be mean and it confuses her. If anything, she seems to be very eager to feed her. 

Ms. Lilith bakes. There's a little bakery at the entrance and she says she’s made all of them.

To make her feel better, Ms. Lilith takes the prettiest bottle on her shelf and pours the potion in. It smells wonderful, like lilac and lavender. Decorated in gold and blue jewels.The glass lid glistening through the sunlight of her office. 

“I can’t take this,” she says, offering it back to her. 

Ms. Lilith shakes her head, “Of course you can. You helped make it. It’s your first potion after all! Besides, I have plenty more of those at home.”

That’s a lie. 

It’s one of the rarest potion bottles Lilith has. Spider glass mined straight from the Small Intestine. One of the only three of its kind. A rare collectible gifted to her by the Potions Coven.

But she doesn’t need to know that.

“Thank you… Ms. Lilith. Really!” 

Emira doesn’t know what else to say. She doesn’t know how to tell her that she likes her a lot and that she wanted to see her again. Everything she could say would go against her moral compass. Everything she had to say was unbefitting of a Blight. 

The woman has already seen her cry, she would not embarrass herself further. 

“It’s quite alright dear.” 

Emira finally thinks of something to say. 

“I’m… I’m going to be a potioneer too!” 

Emira means it. She liked making the potion. It felt… right. It was a bit hard, not to mention confusing, but it was so fun to do it. Emira also liked the thought of helping people. So it was like tackling healing secretly too. 

She knows mixing magic is wrong, but how wrong could it be if it was technically categorized as the other?

“Well then,” she says with pride, “Then I hope to see you in my class soon. You do go to Hexside right?” 

She nods, smiles back on her face. It’s almost as though she never cried. 

They’d see each other again. She’d apply to the Potion’s track and she’d be in her class! 

She had to go tell Papa. 

Lilith waves goodbye as she walks down the steps of the library. Turning down an offer for a ride home. Emira didn’t want her knowing she was a Blight just yet. She’d find out eventually, when they meet again at school. 

Rushing into the living room, she was surprised by what she saw next. 

Her papa looks distressed to say the least. Amity is perched up on his shoulders while Edric is quite literally dangling from his arm. Emira snickers, carefully placing her bag down. Running over to the remainder of her family, she latches onto her papa’s other arm. Hanging much like her twin was at the moment. 

“Whatcha guys doing?” she sing songed. 

“I _believe_ my children are harassing me.” 

Amity giggled, clinging onto her father’s shoulders, “We’re not harassing you. We’re playing.” 

“Well your playing seems to include a lot of weight and a lot less playing,” he jabbed. 

But he laughs anyway, so Emira knows that he does not mean it in a rude way. He does eventually let the twins down, but Amity seemed to be in no mood to get off of him.

“Are you going to get down or?”

“Nope.”

“And why is that?”

She shrugged, “I like being tall.”

Papa frowns, it’s like he wants to say something. His eyebrows knit together and his eyes shot her a disapproving glare. Words don’t form though, so Emira supposes that he decides against making a snarky remark. Bless the titan that Amity couldn’t see it. 

Where was she again? Oh, right. Potions Track. 

“Papa?” 

“Yes princess?”

She takes in a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and back. Smoothing out the cuff of her sleeve, she clears her voice before speaking confidently. 

“I would like to be in the potions track. Or healing. I’m not sure yet.” 

She’s leaning towards potions, but hasn’t made up her mind yet. Healing is still a possibility, but for now, she thinks she’ll stick with potions. 

Her brother beams at her words. Sitting himself crisscross from her. 

“I want to go to beast-keeping! Or maybe the plant track…” he trailed, bringing his chin into his hands. Trying to make up his mind about the two. 

Amity huffed, scrunching her nose like a jackalope. There was always something so rabbit-like about Amity. Emira nearly laughs at her closeness to the animal. Her plush Otabin only proved more of a point. 

“I want to take all of them.”

“You can’t do that,” Edric interjected. 

“Why not?”

“It’s not allowed. You can only take one.” 

Amity’s frown only grew. Grumbling something under her breath that papa immediately scolds her for. Her little sister angrily mutters an apology and looks away from him. Still perched up on his shoulders, her feet dangled at his sides. 

It’s cute when Mittens is angry. 

Alador props her off his shoulders and into his arms, “Don’t worry Amity. You have roughly a year until you have to choose your track. Until then, you can narrow them down like your siblings.” 

Amity still seemed upset at the thought. 

“Why can’t I just learn them all?”

“You could. But that would mean getting a tutor.”

“Then get me one!”

Alador grumbles at his youngest, “It’s not that simple. Tutors are incredibly hard to find. Not to mention all the good ones get taken every few trimester.” 

Amity and Alador shared nearly identical frowns, if not for her dyed hair, Emira would say that Amity was a spitting image of him. Emira does not feel a pang of jealousy, she does not. 

She is not upset that she looks like mother. That’s stupid. And Emira isn’t stupid. 

A part of her hopes that today can last. That she can just watch Amity and papa arguing over tutors, or Edric pushing the sword he thinks she doesn’t know further onto the coach. That they can be safe from the prying eyes of the world.

But today cannot last, and tomorrow will arrive soon. 

She isn’t ready for tomorrow.

She is not ready to see those cold eyes again.

\--x--

Amity holds her breath as she approaches the door. 

She’d feel better if papa was there, maybe hold his hand to make herself calmer. She _trusts_ papa, even if she is upset over the many things he’s done.

At least she could guarantee that he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Hold my hand, it’s… going to be okay,” Edric assured. Sticking his out for her to take.

She doesn’t believe him, but she takes his hand anyway. 

They make it up to Farechild residence, where their mother resided now. It had been exactly 7 months, 2 weeks, 3 days, 12 hours and 35 minutes and 56 secondary since they last saw her. 

Yes, Edric has kept count. It’s been the only thing keeping him from spiraling further down. Ms. Lilith does it too. When she needs to calm down and keep herself grounded.

Farechild Manor is, well, similar to Blight Manor in many ways. Interior design had been something mother had played a big part in their lives. Father had barely any input in the architecture of their home. Aside from his office, of course.

They should have missed her, but the slight dread isn’t something they could ignore. 

A maid leads them upstairs, the tapping of their feet not heard at all. The carpeting nearly absorbed the sound of everything that came in contact with it. 

Amity thinks that its absorbed all the comfort too.

They eventually come face to face with a door. Behind stood their mother in the massive drawing room.

Odalia Blight- er, Farechild, stood proudly in front of them. The mere sight of her was like a painting. The glamour of the room only encouraged the initial thought.

It isn’t like father’s paintings. Ones where Lilith wore beautiful dresses and were covered in lavish and warm colors. Where he would smile the entire time he ran the paint with his brush. When he’d allow them to sit silently as he splotched colors onto the canvas.

This painting was grave. Beautiful all the same, but more distant and disturbing. It was to be studied, not be admired.

“Children. How nice to see you again.”

She doesn’t go over to hug them. Blights didn’t do that. They didn’t show affection. Papa is the only exception, and even he’s a bit awkward about it.

Instead she gestured towards the couch facing towards a chair. It almost resembles a throne, like she was a cold tyrant of sorts.

But mother isn’t like that. Mother is… strict. Sometimes even mean, but they wouldn’t call her _cruel_. 

“How is father?”

The tea before them tastes like poison, but Amity doesn’t complain.

“Papa is well-“

“What kind of childish talk is that?” Odalia spat in disgust.

What… what had she said wrong? 

“Pardon?”

“Do not call him ‘papa’ Amity. You aren’t a child anymore.”

She says it like she had said some awful slur. Like she had said something so despicable. Her voice is like ice water.

Amity wanted nothing more than to shrink away and disappear. Escape the icicles in mother’s eyes.

But… papa liked it…

But Amity _knows_ that she knows better. That she knows what’s best for her. Like they said, she’s young. She doesn’t know yet.

“I’m sorry mother. We won’t do it again.”

“Good.”

Its nearly as poisonous as the tea draining down her lips. Its bitter and cold and Amity despises canegrow but she drinks it anyway. Because why would mother give it to her unless it was good for her? 

She swallows it down, and says nothing of the awful taste on her tongue. She does as she’s expected because she’s a good daughter. And an even better Blight. 

They do not share the same last name anymore, but there’s still blood there. And it’s tied harshly at her wrists.

They’re bound to her.

“I believe you two will be entering tracks soon.” Their mother approaches, eager to make conversation.

The twins nod, though it's a bit robotic. Like it was built into them, programmed into their mentalities.

Amity doesn’t realize just how scary that sounded.

“That is correct,” Emira’s voice speaks.

“And what tracks are you planning to apply for?”

It’s a test, Amity knows that. But Edric and Emira don't. She can see it in the way they try to bear their excitement and sit up taller. Eager to share their prefered track.

She watches in horror as Edric opens his mouth. Looking away in hopes of easing her soul.

“I’m going to Beast Keeping. But the plant track is also a possibility-“

Mother interrupts him, “No.”

Edric shrinks down, curling inward as far as he could without raising suspicion. Emira offered him a sympathetic gaze, though she failed to mask her own fear. The disappointment sinking into her skin faster. 

Edric sat farther into his seat, trying to create a distance between himself and the woman before him. The thought that entered his mind only drowned him further in a sea of guilt and fear. 

He wants Lilith. He wants to hold her hand and hug her. Then he’d feel better. Then he’d feel _safe_. 

Edric knows it’s wrong to feel that way. That it is a weakness to be afraid of your own mother. 

But Edric is weak. He accepted this a long time ago. Edric has and always will be weak. 

He’d do well to remember this. 

“You will have more opportunities in Illusions or Oracle. Choose between the two. You and Emira will be taking the same track.” She sets the teacup from her lips down, glaring at Emira who tries to lightly protest. “No more questions, do you understand?” 

Emira stops, setting her hand down. It’s stupid to try and argue with her. Emira knows that mother knew better. She’s older, and wiser. Emira would see that soon. 

Edric looks to her for answers, silently edging her to choose a track. Her brother always seemed to put her choices before his, which she appreciated dearly. He was quite… indecisive at times. And Emira doesn’t mean that in a rude way. 

Emira weighs her options. Illusions and Oracle are neither she has any interest in. None of them remotely resemble healing or helping in any way. It’s all show and entertainment. Emira doesn’t like that. It’s interesting but no ultimately not something she wants to do. 

But mother knows better. She is wiser and she would understand that soon. 

There’s a selfish tug at the pit of her stomach. Emira didn’t want to be anymore like her mother than she already was. She’s already taking after her in terms of looks. 

Emira knows it's selfish, but she just wants to be Emira. She doesn’t want to be part of a twin set. She doesn’t want to be her mother’s daughter and she doesn’t want to be her father’s heir. 

She just wants to be Emira Blight. 

So when she chooses Illusions, she doesn’t say it’s because she wants to do something new. That she wants to forge a path for herself. 

“We’ll take Illusions. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, mother.” 

“Good,” their mother cooed in satisfaction. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“Yes mother,” they all reply in unison, and it's a bit more forced than usual. 

The rest of the day goes slow. Agonizingly slow. The clocks ticking are echoing around their ears. Everything in Farechild Manor is like a hazard, an aura of danger lingering at every turn. Like they were trapped in an uncomfortable waltz, where their partners kept stepping at their feet. 

The guilt never truly leaves. 

Edric and Amity wish for the cottage in the meadow. Instead of sitting at the dining hall, they wished to be seated in the small kitchen. With the woman made of paint to make them small pastries and make them strange foods like “leftover limb pie” (which was really just a meat pie. Ms. Lilith was an “edgy” teenager in her youth. Whatever that meant). 

They know they shouldn’t. They know it’s wrong and that it’s foolish to wish for these things. In fact, they should be grateful to see their mother today. Especially having not seen her in so long. 

Then why did it feel so awful?

“Amity?” 

“Yes mother?”

“In two years time you will take abominations. I will not argue with you any further, do you understand?” 

Amity freezes, gripping at her fork. It’s not like abominations was a bad track to start with, Amity liked abominations. Papa- no, father was the abominations. 

It would have been nice to at least have some other options all the same. 

But this was mother. And mother was wiser than she was. She’d understand this soon. 

Even if she didn’t like it.

“Amity?”

“I understand, mother.”

“Good.” 

They hurry out of there as fast as they could. They wish their mother goodbye and she kisses them on the head. It isn’t soft or caring. It instead leaves an aching pain in its wake, and Amity wants nothing more than to get away from her. 

It’s one of their better interactions, so that counted for something at least. 

Edric held Amity’s hand the entire time they made their way home, though Emira sped in front of them. Not bothering to hide the anger she currently felt. Their brother tried to make her feel better, but she only swatted him away. 

It hurts, even if Edric pretends it doesn’t. 

Emira stomps back into the living room, not bothering to greet any of the maids as she tries to get to her room.

Father is there, sitting at his study. He turns to greet them, only to frown upon seeing their state.

“How was your visit?” he tries asking instead. 

“Just fine, father.” 

Amity doesn’t understand the pained expression on his face. Why he looks so torn to be addressed as “father” once more. 

“It doesn’t seem-”

“I said It was just fine.” Emira angrily spat, nearly reminding her or their mother. 

Father doesn’t talk anymore. Emira stands, wallowing in irritation. Tears threatened her eyes, but none of them dared bring it up. Father watches, reaching his hands out, but putting it back when she shot him a glare. 

Emira didn’t like being pitied, but it was only natural of them to feel that way. 

“Am I excused?” 

“I- yes.” 

Emira immediately runs into her room, a door could be heard getting slammed into the wall. Vibrations running through the walls as it came in contact with the frame. Amity flinched, clutching onto Edric’s hand tighter. Her brother instinctively clutched at her shoulder, trying to soothe her jitters. 

Alador’s heart twists, and clenches. His daughter is sad, she’s hurting and he doesn’t know how to fix that. He doesn’t know how to help her. 

But he wants to. He really does. But he can’t do that if she’s constantly running from him. 

“It’s okay papa. She’s just a bit upset.”

“Mother said not to call him that anymore,” Amity reminded. 

Edric’s eyes widened, muttering a small apology as red dusted his cheeks. 

Neither of their statements succeeded in reassuring him. 

They go one about their routines like nothing has happened. They’re still Blights, there is still work to be done. No matter how tired or sad they are, the house still must go. Like clockwork. The time must still tick no matter how slow or fast it seems to be going. 

It’s still going, everchanging. 

Their home is like clockwork. This will not change. 

Even if Alador sits at the edge of his bed, crying silently into the night. 

Emira had not left her room since, locking herself in. Refusing even her brother's entry. Amity tries to get her to come down but she only snaps at her. He pretends that he does not see his youngest crying herself to sleep. 

He’ll only make it worse. He knows this well. 

Why does he keep failing? Why does he continue to fail his children? He was trying, he really was. He’s read everything he could, he was trying his best to remember them all. 

Why wasn’t that good enough?

Titan’s sake he’s crying. Isn’t that pathetic? And over what? Being addressed as father again? Or the suffering of his children?

He doesn't know, and he only cries harder at the thought. 

Alador Blight has only cried 5 times in his entire lifetime. He was raised better than that. 

The first time, he had been 6. And his father had done well to remind him not to cry again. That he would be severely punished for it. 

The second, grandmother had died. But he was careful not to be seen by anyone. 

The third, was when he let go of Lily. When he had kissed her hand and left her at the pirate ship. Never to see her again. 

The fourth, when his twins were born, and Edric had made it out alive. 

The fifth, at his daughter’s birthday. The very day he decided to divorce his wife. 

And now, today was the sixth time. And none of the previous ones ever hurt quite like this one. 

He’s failed. The voices are almost mocking. Replaying all the horrible moments to remind him of his many failures. His children’s fearful eyes, Emira’s tiptoeing at night, Edric’s nodding off to sleep. Amity yelling that she hated them all wirled in his mind and sticking to him like black ink. 

Everytime he reaches out, they always flinch away from him. Always fearful, always guarded. Always calculating like it’s second nature to them. 

It isn’t fair. He’s trying. 

_Then how come you kept failing?_

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. 

His throat sours, his bones ache. His joints crack everytime he moves and his head throbs. The voices only grew louder as the tears leaked from his eyes. 

He’s tired, and hasn’t the slightest idea what he’s doing. _What is he doing_? Why wasn’t there a clear way of doing this? Why is it so incredibly difficult?

“Father?” 

Edric. 

Good titan why doesn’t the world just humiliate him more. Of course they’d let his _son_ catch him crying at this hour. 

“Edric,” he says, wiping his tears quickly. “What are you doing up?”

His son carefully enters the room, cautiously tiptoeing onto the carpet. 

Had his son always been that small?

“Mittens couldn’t sleep. So I came up and helped her. I saw you crying and thought maybe you could use a hug!” he explained, opening his arms in retaliation. 

“And how would that help?”

He shrugged, “It works for Mittens.” 

Alador scoffs, of course Edric would offer him something as simple and foolish as _affection_ to make him feel better. Bless his gentle soul. 

His son is gentle, it’s become a rarity in their nobility over the years. No matter how hard he and Odalia had tried to force it out of him, it seemed to stick. Edric would never stop being gentle, it was in his nature. 

Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. 

“Alright then.” 

His son is small. Has he always been this small? Arms that wrapped around him only seemed to trigger his tears to fall again. Opposed to the more expected reaction of calming down. His son is warm and gentle, unlike either of his parents. 

How was this even possible. When had he been this small? So tiny and fragile? How was this boy still carrying all of the world at his shoulders?

How had he not broken yet?

“It’s okay papa,” he assures him. “I’m weak too.” 

Titan that only made the tears fall faster. 

“What? What do you mean?” 

Edric gives him a tired smile, “I’m weak too. Everyone knows I am. And that’s okay.” 

Alador stared at his son, flabbergasted. He’s ten. Almost eleven if he’s remembering correctly. How on earth was he worrying about things like that at such a young age?

“Edric you are not weak.”

“Mother says I’m weak. And so do my friends. But that’s okay! Really.”

It’s not. It’s not okay. Alador wouldn’t allow it. His son isn’t weak. He’s the strongest person he’s ever met. Even stronger than _him_. And Alador doesn’t admit that often. 

Alador forces his son to look at him, “Edric you are not weak. You’re the strongest man I know. And I mean that.” 

His son prepares a counter, a reassurance. He’s become _good_ at that. Alador’s noticed, but he’d be damned if he allowed it to grow any further. 

He stops him, “No. Just listen for a moment.”

Edric promptly shuts his mouth, thinning his lips into a line. He stares up at Edric’s eyes and…

He looks like him. Even if he takes after Odalia, he’s reminded that he is his son. A wonderful, gentle and kind soul that he was blessed with as his child. 

His son is perfect, and strong. No matter what he thinks he is. 

“You are stronger than you realize. You help your sisters, offer them comfort when they cannot find it. You are kind, and that is a rarity among our people.” 

Edric’s hand tightened around his, but he doesn’t let go. 

“Your mother is a fool. Any who claim that you aren’t are cowards themselves. They find a need to destroy those who have qualities they lack to feel stronger. Better and these people are the ones you distance yourself from. They’re pathetic.” 

Alador cups his son’s face. He looks so tired. His eyes are half lidded and tearful. He looks awfully similar to how his Lily looked when he was younger. Always working and taking care of everyone. How could he have allowed him to feel like that? 

His son is so small. So tired and fragile and it _scares_ him. 

“You are so so brave, Edric. You are so brave to have been kind in a world that does not treat you the same way. You are so brave to be able to love. Don’t you see that?” he whispers through his own tears. 

Edric lets out a hiccup, before he starts sobbing into his sleeve. He whimpers and buries his face into his shoulder. Alador lets him, because his son has been brave for so long. 

He deserved to be weak for a while. 

“You’re the bravest Blight I know, Edric. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

He’d make sure to remind him. If that’s what he needed he’d make sure to remind him. 

Time is a fickle thing. Sometimes a day feels like an hour, and a second feels like an eternity. All relatively the same, but somehow different. He doesn’t know how long Edric cried for, it feels all too long, yet also too short at the same time. 

Like he said, time is a fickle thing. 

Eventually, his son stops heaving for air, and falls asleep in his arms. Alador is careful when he tucks him back in his bed. Kissing his temple as he catches a rest for the first time in a while. 

His son is strong. He meant everything he had said to him. But even warriors needed sleep, and his son did too. 

“Rest well, little knight,” he whispers teasingly, though he’s sure his son wouldn’t mind. 

Alador knows he’s failing, and that he doesn’t deserve his children. They deserved far better than him. To be loved and cared for properly, that just wasn’t something Alador could provide for them. 

But he’s going to try, even if he knows he will fail. Maybe, if he keeps trying, he’ll get there. 

He doesn’t deserve his children, but they deserve a good parent. So rather than think of what he deserves he’s going to try to be what they deserve. 

He caresses his son’s cheek, “I will do better. I promise you.”

And it’s one he intends to keep. He must be truthful to them. 

He is a Blight, after all. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi im sorry if this chapter is a bit disappointing. Still not getting better, but Im going back into counseling! I'm still really hurting (and my brain said "hey panic attacks are fun, its not like we'll die") but I'm working really hard to get better. For the time being please leave comments. I absolutely adore them. I also would like to thank everyone for the birthday wishes! Ive never felt so cared for then when you wished me well! I love you all so so much!

**Author's Note:**

> hello :D this is one of my first fic so pls be nice ^^ the fic may have slow updates bc I am a freshman in high school. ur gurl small. im sorry. anyway I ship ravenblight. love these two and wanted them to get married so this is that. also my therapist says that this is a healthy coping mechanism.


End file.
